Not Himself
by LTP-girl
Summary: Connie notices something different in Mike's behaviour, and wonders what could be causing it.
1. Chapter 1

**Have you ever not wanted something until somebody else you knew had it? This fic sort of goes along these lines. Enjoy!*^_^***

Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order_ and its characters. Sierra is mine.

Rating: T, for themes and language.

Not Himself

By LTP-girl

Connie sat at the prosecution's table, watching Mike from behind as he had finished grilling his witness, strutting before the jury.

"No more questions, your honour," he said to Judge Morale, before unbuttoning his suit jacket and returning to his seat next to Connie.

Mike glanced over at defence attorney Candice Harley sitting next to her devious client, as she stared down at her notes, her facial expression desolate after he had completely eviscerated her argument. "One in the bag for Mike Cutter," he whispered to Connie, a sense of victory in his tone.

She smiled back at him, equally pleased.

Candice Harley had finished her questioning of the people's witness, and reclaimed her seat at the defence table.

The witness was still shaken by Mike's questioning, and had broken down in a fit of whimpers, unable to fully answer the defence's questions.

"Are you alright, Mr Leone?" Judge Morale asked, concerned for the witness's emotional wellbeing.

"M-m-y wife's gone, and nothing can bring her back," he forced through broken weeps. He started to shout angrily at Mike, his eyes seething with rage. "_Nothing! You hear me, Mr Cutter? Nothing! You pompous bastard!"_

"I understand," the judge replied, trying to calm the hysterical witness down. He turned towards the caught. "Court adjourned. This testimony will continue on Monday." And with that, he banged down his gavel.

Cutter stood abruptly from his seat. "But I have redirect, your honour," he protested.

"Yes Mr Cuter, so you do," he replied, agreeing with the ambitious attorney. "Which will take place on Monday."

Cutter stood there biting his tongue, annoyed by the judge's hasty decision. He shook his head in frustration as he and Connie set about packing their briefcases with the papers that had been scattered over the table.

"At least Dr Olivet's findings will impeach Mr Leone's testimony, once we subpoena her as an expert witness, and it does look like Mr Melani will be serving a consecutive sentence instead of a concurrent sentence after all," Connie said to Mike with optimism.

Connie and Mike made their descent down the courthouse steps, briefcases in hand.

"It's a nice day out today," Mike commented, looking up at the sky and squinting in face of the sunlight that had embraced the two figures. He seemed to have forgotten about the events that had just taken place in the courtroom.

Connie had noticed something different about Michael Cutter in the past couple of weeks. He had bought a new suit, and had been wearing more cologne than he normally did, these factors certainly not going unnoticed by the female ADA's at the office. He had also let his hair grow a little longer, and had it combed back neatly, and there was a distinct change in his personality that she had also noticed. He seemed more cheery, greeting her each morning at the office with a warm smile and a cup of coffee, and she couldn't quit put her finger on what could have caused this change. It wasn't as if they had been winning a lot of cases lately, and Jack had been hurling orders at him from every direction, not to mention his favourite courtroom drama being cancelled. And although the case they had currently been working on seemed to hinder towards the prosecution, there was one vital piece of evidence that detectives Lupo and Bernard hadn't picked up on, which had to be entered into the trial later. The Michael Cutter she knew would have been pissed, but no, he wasn't this time. In fact, he was thankful that the detectives had uncovered this evidence, despite its discovery being so belated.

Despite it being less than forty degrees outside, Connie couldn't disagree with Mike. The sunshine that had washed over New York City on this particular afternoon did have a certain appeal, but it wasn't like Michael Cutter to make such an uplifting comment. He would usually focus on the negatives, and bitch about how cold the air was. Connie couldn't help but notice the extra spring he had in his step, and still wandered what had put him in such a good mood lately.

Mike led her to the newspaper-stand. "Hey Connie, how about I buy you that magazine you like?" he suggested, digging into his coat pocket for his wallet.

Connie was a little startled by Mike's offer, but accepted nonetheless. "Sure thing," she replied. "But only if I pay for the coffee later." She smiled contently to herself as she noticed the sunlight bring out the few grey flecks and highlights in his dirty-blonde hair. _I bet_ _Plenty of female jurors would be on our side... Oh God, where did that come from? _She wandered, startled by the wayward thought she had about her boss.

Mike nodded. "The New York Law Review, and a Fashiona," Mike said to the man behind the counter. He payed him the money, and handed Connie her magazine.

Whatever had gotten Mike into such a good mood, she certainly wasn't complaining about it.

At that moment, her blackberry began to buzz inside her pocket. She dug the phone out of her pocket, and put the receiver to her ear, moving away from Mike to answer her phone. "ADA Rubirosa," she said.

"Hey Connie, it's Sierra," the person answered.

Connie's expression had turned into a wide smile. It had been a while since she had heard from her young cousin. "Hey Sierra, how are you?"

"I'm great," she replied. "I was just wandering, do you want to hang out this weekend? Like, go shopping or something like that... that's if, like, you're not too busy with work or anything?"

Connie stared over at Mike, who was leaning over the counter of the newspaper-stand, making friendly conversation with the man who had just served him.

"Um, sure, I'd love to," she replied. "I have no plans so far."

"That's great. I'll drop by your apartment tomorrow, around eleven suit?"

"Eleven's fine."

"Okay, see you then. I've got to go, I've got an art-history class."

"See you." Connie hung up her phone, and slid it back into her pocket.

Mike approached her from behind. "Who was that?" he asked with curiosity.

"Oh, that was my cousin," she replied. "She wants us to get together this weekend."

Mike smiled. "That sounds like a good idea." They continued to walk side by side along the pavement. "Get a bit of time to yourself."

Connie watched Mike as they continued to make their way back to the DA's office, taking note of the slight glimmer in his eyes.

**What do you think? Feel free to comment:-) **


	2. Chapter 2

**Connie suffers from a case of the green-eyed-monster. Enjoy *^_^***

Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order_ and its characters. Sierra is mine.

Rating: T, for language and themes. Contains an alcohol scene.

**Maid Morden's Coffee and Tea House, Lower East Side, Saturday, 11:20am**

Connie was relieved to have a day off from the demands of the Manhattan District Attorney's Office, and glad that she had someone to spend her day with other than menial office clerks continuously clogging the copy machines, geriatric judges, and backbiting defence attorneys, whom she normally faced during the week as an ADA.

Connie sipped her latte. "I think it's great that you've made the Dean's list again, Sierra," she said to her cousin, who was sitting opposite the table they shared.

"That's not the only news I wanted to share with you," Sierra said sheepishly, staring down at her Danish pastry. "I've met someone."

Connie put her drink down, her expression perplexed. "Met someone? You mean a guy?"

Sierra couldn't wipe the elated grin off her face. "Ah huh," she replied.

"Good for you," Connie took a bite of her spinach and fetta pide. "_Sooo_, aren't you going to tell me what this guy is like?" Her eyes had a playful glint.

"Oh, I think you'd really like him, Connie," she replied enthusiastically. "He's really intelligent, and incredibly sexy, and, like, sophisticated. I took him to this art exhibition last week, and, like, he was actually genuinely interested. Unlike other guys I've been with."

Connie took another sip of her latte. "He sounds like the total package."

"He is. And get this, Connie, he's a lawyer like you."

"...really?" Connie shot her discerning look, with a hint of amusement behind her expression. "And how old is this sophisticated lawyer you're dating?"

Sierra shrugged. "I don't know, like older. Like, in his forties I guess."

Connie chuckled to herself. "I bet you're having party with his wallet," she joked, not surprised by her younger cousin's response.

"Not really," she replied simply. "Although, he did offer to pay for my college tuition next semester, but I think I'll give that a miss. I've already sold a few paintings, and I don't want him thinking that I'm taking advantage of him like that."

A waiter cleared their table, and Connie leaned over, enthralled by this news Sierra had brought to her. "That's a wise idea," she agreed. "So how long have you been seeing each other?"

"Four months," she replied. "That's the longest I've ever been with a guy. And things have really started to heat up in the past couple of weeks." Sierra crossed her legs. "So, Connie, are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

Connie almost laughed in amusement. "Me? No. I hardly have any time _these_ days, with the caseload and everything. There is this one guy at the office though..." Her expression turned distant, almost wistful, as an image of Mike entered her mind. It was no secret to her that he had a certain attraction to her, maybe even a crush, but he had never acted upon it, or approached her in an inappropriate way. Being Michel Cutter, he had kept everything on a strictly professional basis with her. She rested her head in her hand as she continued to gaze at the people walking passed the small coffee shop. Although, there was that time where Mike had _pimped her out to the jury_, as she so eloquently put it, and then brought the incident up once again during one of their most recent cases, him so blatantly admitting that he found her attractive on both counts. And she had to admit, other than being a brilliant prosecutor and trial lawyer, there was a certain desirability about him, something dangerous, something almost scary..._sexy scary_.

"Connie."

She jumped, startled, as Sierra's voice broke her thoughts, and dragged her back to reality.

"Who is this guy?" she pressed, intrigued by the answer Connie had just given her.

"What guy?" she asked, having practically forgotten about the conversation she and her cousin where so engaged in a moment ago, after her mind had wandered.

"The guy in your office. I asked you if you were seeing anyone, and you said that there was this one guy at the office," she recalled to Connie.

"Oh, that's right." She sat up and crossed her legs in composure. "Nobody, really," she replied brushing it off. She stared down at the table. "He's just a friend."

She noticed the hint of discouragement that could be hindered in Connie's tone. "Well, friends are important too," Sierra pointed out optimistically, trying to cheer her up.

"Yeah, they sure are," she replied, looking back up at Sierra with a smile, reflecting back on the times that Mike had acted as a friend. There was that time where her ex-supervisor, Marcus Woll, had come back to haunt her with the events of their brief affair, and Mike had consoled her on the issue. Then there was that other time, just after they had started working together, when he had dropped by her apartment one Saturday to comfort her when her cat had been hit by a car, and drove her to the vet to have him put down to end his suffering.

"Oh Connie, I almost forgot to tell you," Sierra said excitedly. "We're going to this wine tasting thing tomorrow."

Connie nursed her latte in her hand, sighing with exasperation. "He sure sounds like a keeper," she said, wishing that she could find someone like that. She looked back up at Sierra with curiosity. "What kind of lawyer did you say he was?"

Sierra took a sip of her cappuccino, a shifty glint in her eyes. "Funny you ask that, because you probably know him, or have at least heard his name drop on occasion," she replied, setting her cup back on its saucer. "He's an attorney at the DA's office. He's the _Executive Assistant District Attorney _to be exact."

_No it can't be? _ Connie nearly spat out her latte. "_Michael Cutter?_" she blurted out indignantly with shock. She was surprised herself by her abrupt response.

And enlightened smile spread across Sierra's face. "Oh, so you know him?"

_Know him? He's my friggen boss! _She straightened herself in her chair, and cleared her throat in composure. "Yeah I know him," she replied, her tone a lot quieter. "He's my boss. I've worked with him quite extensively." She didn't want to let on to Sierra how closely she had worked with him, out of fear of discouraging her.

"He asked me to be his date at the DA's office annual Christmas party," she ranted. "Like, I've already picked out a dress and everything." She paused for a moment. "Who are you going with, Connie?"

Connie shrugged, almost speechless, still digesting the news Sierra had just revealed to her. She had no idea Mike had been dating anyone, let alone her own cousin! She wandered if he even knew that his girlfriend was a relation of hers, and presumed that he didn't, and how long he was intending on waiting until he revealed that he was in a relationship to his co-workers. How would he explain a young woman half his age hanging from his arm at the celebration?

"I don't know," Connie replied to her question. "Dates aren't compulsory, but I'll probably end up going with one of the detectives form the twenty-seventh precinct, or Dale, our new intern."

As the hour progressed, the conversation had touched on topics such as fashion, politics, and Sierra's fine arts course. And Connie tried her best to keep a straight face, and maintain a neutral manner, whenever Mike was dragged up into the conversation.

**Connie's apartment, 4:30pm**

Connie pushed through the front door of her apartment, and dropped her shopping bags on the carpeted floor with a thud. She couldn't believe the day she was having. She let the door slam shut behind her, kicked off her converse, and made her way down the hallway to the kitchen to poor herself a glass of merlot, even though it was still a little early in the afternoon to be popping corks. God, her feet where killing her, after walking up and down the Lower East Side, bargain hunting with her brat-cousin, she needed a stiff drink. Especially after tolerantly gritting her teeth all afternoon, as Sierra gave explicit details of her and Mike's bedroom-escapades. Connie didn't know whether she'd ever be able to look her boss in the eye ever again, after learning about Sierra's extradition to his out-of-court abilities.

She reached into the top cupboard, took down a wine glass, and poured the crimson liquid into it from the bottle she held in hand, and took a long sip. She took a seat at the oak kitchen table. She reflected back on the recent change in Mike's behaviour she had noticed over past few weeks.

_No wonder he's been in such a good mood, _she scoffed silently to herself, taking another sip of wine. _A man of his age with a young thing like that waiting at home every night. _But she honestly didn't understand what Mike had seen in Sierra, an air-headed art-student with no sense of sophistication, let alone any understanding of a mature relationship. First of all, she was far too young for him, probably just learning to walk and playing with dolls and stuffed animals when he graduated from law school, she suspected. And without a brain in her head, but obviously savvy enough to trick old men into giving into her wants.

Connie had polished of the glass of wine she had been drinking, and poured herself another, feeling the alcohol starting to take effect.

She should have guessed that Mike had been seeing someone, with the heavy cologne, new suit, and the hair product. But he never said anything to her that would allude to such a prospect. She felt her heart sink, and wandered how long their relationship would last. Mike was no idiot, she knew that, and couldn't imagine him of all people falling for Sierra's whimsical tricks. But then again, even after working with him for over two years, there were still some things about him that she had very little knowledge of.

**A/N: I thought of this fic after I watched **_**The Graduate**_**, and wandered what it would be like if Cutter pulled a male version of Mrs Robinson. **

**What do you think? Feel free to comment:-)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I've finally got down my next chapter! Mike shows signs of what could be seen as a 'mid-life crisis'. Hope y'all like.*^_^***

Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order_. Sierra is mine.

Rating: T, for language and themes.

**Pierre's Vineyard, New Jersey, Sunday, 2pm**

Mike took in the calming scenery of the grounds, admiring the endowed orchid of grapevines in the distance, as he poured two glasses of 1982 Chardonnay. He turned to face Sierra who was standing next to him, and passed her one of the glasses of wine he had poured. There were moments, even for Michael Cutter, when the flowers never seemed to stop blossoming, and the birds in trees didn't cease chirping, even towards the end of November. Everything had a certain glow since the overcast afternoon he bumped into the green-eyed brunette dawdling through Central Park, with one thing leading to another. He found that there was something special about Sierra, when she let her hand brush against his as they passed through street markets, and the way her eyes lit up every time he opened the door to let her into his apartment, their budding relationship having grown deeper as the months progressed. What he had noticed the most was that being with her had made him feel young again, a feeling he hadn't had in a long time, with the gruelling days he had spent in his office and the courtroom as a prosecutor, pouring his guts into every case, leaving him all the more aged. Every shy smile and every blush left him with the confidence that at least a small proportion of the female population found him desirable.

Sierra raised the glass of wine to her lips and took a sip.

"What do you think of that one?" he asked her, still holding the bottle. "Can you taste the vanilla?"

"It tastes kind of citrusy," she replied with a forced smile. She set the glass back on the table and turned away from him so that he didn't see her gag.

Mike spread his arm around her, and took a sip of the glass of wine he held in his hand. He was glad that Sierra was his girlfriend. But he wasn't satisfied with just a _girlfriend_. He wanted a partner to share his life with.

"You know, I've been thinking," he began. "It must get pretty noisy in the dorm at night, I mean with all the other students living with you."

Sierra shrugged, not thinking much of the comment. "I guess so, but it doesn't really bother me that much."

"Well, you need your sleep to do well in your classes," Mike pointed out, a mischievous half smile forming on his lips.

"I'm a heavy sleeper."

He started playing with her hair flirtatiously. "And with the heating always shutting off, I can't have you putting up with that," he continued, his voice turning to a seductive whisper as his lips grazed her cheek. "I've got this new system installed at my place."

She reached over the table for a plate of olives that had been placed there, looking up at Mike with a crooked smile, now suspicious of what he was alluding to. "Mr Cutter, if I didn't know any better, I would think you were trying to ask me to move in with you," she answered teasingly.

He shrugged with a warm smile. "Why not?"

She moved to rest her arms on his shoulders. "Mmm, that would be nice," she replied, almost wistfully, looking into the silver-blue of his eyes. "But what if we drive each other crazy."

"We already do drive each other crazy... _in bed_," he joked.

She laughed. "You know what I mean."

He placed his hands on her hips, his eyes turning soft in response to her concern. "I've been considering it for a while, and I think it's time we got to know each other on a different level," he explained gently, his tone serious. "Why don't we just try it out, and see where it goes." He held her a little closer. "We won't know unless we try."

She stared down at the ground for a moment, considering her options, the sharpness of his cologne tickling her nose and almost causing her to sneeze. "Well, you are very persuasive, councillor," she said playfully, rubbing his arm. "And you do smell good."

He cupped her cheek in his hand. "So, is that a yes?" he asked, his voice harbouring hope and optimism.

She nodded with a warm smile, but quickly pulled away from him, noticing that the other people who had joined them earlier that day had returned from their tour of the vineyard.

At that moment, Pierre, the owner of the vineyard, made his way towards the table and presented the group of people with a bottle of red wine and a wheel of Brea, placing them both on the table. He glanced up at Mike and Sierra.

"Would you and your pretty daughter like to try the Shiraz?" he asked Mike, removing the cork from the bottle.

Sierra and Mike exchanged bemused glances. _Daughter?_

An amused smile played on Mike's lips. "Um, sure, we'd love to," he answered, thinking it best not to correct him on his mistake. He was aware of some of the funny looks people had given him, and wasn't quite sure whether they were out of disgust or just curiosity, but knew that that they were to do with the considerably young girl he was accompanied by, who was either his daughter or his girlfriend. He didn't want any further scrutiny from these people by blatantly stating that she _was_ in fact his girlfriend.

**Connie's apartment, 10:30pm**

Connie decided to have a quiet night in. Get some paperwork done, order a pizza, and watch _Midsummer Murders_ over a glass of wine. She tried her best to keep her mind off Sierra's news, and was quite successful after being distracted by a call she had received from Detective Lupo that morning, informing her that their key witness, Mario Leone, had committed suicide. She knew that Mike wouldn't be happy about it, considering the fact that he had redirect in court the next day. What further kept her mind away from Sierra and Mike was Lupo asking her to the Christmas party, which she accepted, since she had nobody else to go with.

She tried calling Mike all day to let him know what was going on with the case, but couldn't get a hold of him, his phone going straight to his voice mail. And she was yet to receive a reply. She had decided to call him once again, and for the first time, he had finally picked up.

"Mike Cutter," she heard a voice say on the other end of the phone line.

Connie hated to admit it, but she was glad to hear his voice. "Hey Mike, it's me," she replied into the receiver.

"Oh, hey Connie." He sounded a little out of breath.

"Um, I don't mean to disturb you," she defended quickly. "But I've been trying to call you all day, and there's been no answer."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. Some things came up," he explained, his breathing still sounding heavy. "What is it you wanted to tell me? Is it to do with the case?"

She was briefly distracted by Mike telling someone in the background to be quiet. "Ah, yes, Lupo contacted me this morning. Our material witness, Mario Leone, committed suicide yesterday. He was found hanging from a ceiling fan in his lounge room," she explained.

"He took his own life? But I was meant to have redirect tomorrow." For the first time in weeks, Mike sounded disheartened.

"And Mario Leone is our key witness. _Was_ our key witness, and other than that knife sheath with Roberta Leone's blood on it, we now have nothing," Connie continued. "If we don't have enough evidence to prove our case, the jury will acquit."

Mike paused for a moment, putting some facts together in his mind. "What about Melani's daughter? Why don't we use her as a witness?" He suggested. "She was a co-conspirator, so she's bound to have information. I know she was silent before, but maybe if we prod her a little harder this time she'll finally give us something."

Connie sighed with exasperation. "I guess it's worth a try. I'll get Van Buren onto it."

"Great. I think we'll also have to set up a meeting with her at Riker's tomorrow to talk about a deal," Mike added. "She's not the type to give us something for nothing."

Connie could have sworn she heard someone giggling on the other end of the line, but carried on with the conversation, pretending not to have heard anything. It was pretty obvious to her what Mike, and possibly Sierra, were up to, and felt slightly contented in disturbing them. After all, it wasn't as if Mike never called her on the weekend and interrupted her during one of herdates. It was about time she got her own back. "How about we offer her depraved indifference? She _was_ under the influence of amphetamines at the time," she suggested.

"I have no problem with that," Mike agreed.

She heard some muttering in the background, along with more giggles.

"I'm sorry Connie, I've got to go. We'll have to discuss things further tomorrow," he apologised. "Thanks for letting me know about Mr Leone. See you, Connie."

"Okay, see you." And with that, she hung up the receiver of her phone.

She tried her hardest in convincing herself that she wasn't jealous of Sierra being with Mike, but knew that underneath all of her professionalism, that that was the furthest from the truth.

_I shouldn't even have feelings like this. He's my boss, _she kept telling herself. She found it strange, because she had never had feelings towards Mike like this before. He was a colleague, a friend, a very good friend at best, nothing more. Or so she had thought.

**A/N: My next chapter will have more Connie/Mike stuff. I just wanted to give more insight into Sierra and Mike's relationship to give the story more depth, and gradually build the tension between Mike and Connie. **

**What do you think? Feel free to comment:-D**


	4. Chapter 4

**The relationship between Connie and Sierra is revealed to Mike, and I have also experimented with the underlying issues already existing in the main character's relationships in this chapter. Enjoy *^_^***

Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order _and its characters; they are the property of Dick Wolf and NBC.

**Manhattan County District Attorney's Office, NY, Monday, 8:45am**

Mike made his way briskly down the broad linoleum-floored corridor, briefcase in hand, laden with a cardboard tray holding two steaming cups of fresh coffee.

"Morning," he greeted Connie, who was sitting at her desk, her eyes glued to the brightly lit screen of the computer monitor in front of her. He placed one of the cups of coffee on her desk.

"Morning Mike," she replied, glancing up at him. She picked up the coffee, and smiled before taking a sip. "And thanks for the coffee, again. Prompt as always."

He smiled back, and continued to make his way towards his own office, Connie following closely behind. Once inside his office, he dropped his briefcase onto the floor, removed his coat and scarf, and hung them on the coat rack.

Connie folded her arms, and rested against the bookshelf positioned to the side of the room. "Lieutenant Van Buren dropped off Melani's Personnel file. Carmella Melani, Melani's daughter," she informed him matter-of-factly. "And I've arranged for us to meet her at Riker's with her attorney this afternoon, to discuss a plea bargain."

He took a seat at his desk, rocking back and forth as he listened to Connie, his glance steady on her. "Great, that's a start."

She approached his desk. "I don't think Van Buren has quite forgiven you just yet. You know, after that whole drama in the courtroom during the People vs. Robinson case?" Connie was referring to a case where Mike had brought up Van Buren's cancer treatment in public court during her testimony, without informing her or asking her permission prior, she having found it to be a flagrant betrayal and an invasion of her privacy on his part. He had assured the Lieutenant that it was simply a spare of the moment action, to secure his argument. But she wouldn't have it. She was aware that he was only using her to win his case, knowing not to expect anything less from any hard-driven lawyer, and it hadn't been the first time the ignoble Michael Cutter had taken advantage of one of his colleagues in such a way. He had only worn the fragile bonds of the professional relationship they shared even more thin by exchanging a drunken hug with her at a party her co-workers had decided to throw for her, in celebrating her recovery. She took it as nothing more than a cheap attempt to gain back her respect.

Mike leaned over his desk, and looked down sheepishly. He had been left walking on eggshells in Van Buren's presence ever since he so zealously humiliated her in court. "Why do you say that?" he asked with a discouraged tone, his voice almost deadpan.

"She left pretty early. Didn't even stay to run through the updates of the case with Jack. I'm guessing she didn't want to bump into you, and intended to leave before you got here."

Mike nodded. "Well that figures." He knew that a proportion of his colleagues harboured certain animosity towards him. Hell, what lawyer didn't? But he never would have considered Lieutenant Van Buren to hold a grudge. He was eager to change the subject. "So, how was your weekend?" he asked her.

Connie shrugged. "Same old, same old. How was your weekend, pretty busy? I tried calling you all day yesterday."

"Fairly," Mike replied in response to her question. "I'm sorry about that. Like I said, some things came up."

A mischievous smile played on her lips. "Like wine tasting?... _Oh no! Was I not supposed to know about that? _She remembered her cousin Sierra had briefly mentioned to her that she and Mike had planned on wine tasting over the weekend, but then realised too late that _Mike_ hadn't said anything to her about it. He hadn't even revealed to any of his colleagues, least of all to Connie, that he had a girlfriend. It seemed to her that at this point in time, Mike wanted to keep this part of his private life private, or at least up until the Christmas Party. _Me and my big mouth, and my belated memory! S_he cursed to herself, trying to figure out a way to weevil herself out of the awkward situation. She noticed the surprised look on Mike's face, his eyebrows arching, causing the lines in his forehead to deepen slightly.

_Very odd, _he thought._ I don't remember ever saying anything about wine tasting to Connie._ But then again, his mind had been so consumed by the current case, and Sierra, that he had lost track of what he said to people. "T-that's strange," Mike commented. "Did I tell you I was going wine tasting?"

Connie bit her bottom lip. She figured that he was going to stumble across the fact that Sierra and she were related, sooner or later, and she preferred him to know sooner, to get anything awkward that would come of it out of the way. "Sierra," she said simply, staring down at the floor.

Mike was a little startled. _How did Connie know Sierra? _He considered that he must have mentioned something about the wine tasting, but he knew that he certainly didn't mention anything about his current relationship status. He was lost for words, and for a moment felt his voice catch in his throat. "What about Sierra?" he managed to ask. He didn't understand how Connie knew about his relationship with Sierra. He felt that the only way any of his co-workers could know about the relationship was if he had been spied on. Had people in the office been spying on him? Had Connie been spying on him?

She glanced back up at him, his concerned expression harbouring puzzlement and a hint of vulnerability. "Remember outside the courthouse on Friday, when my cousin called me, asking to meet up on Saturday? It was her, Mike. It was Sierra. Sierra's my cousin," Connie explained as delicately as she could.

Mike stared down at his desk for a moment to collect his thoughts. _Sierra did say she was going out with a cousin on the weekend. So did Connie. _There was a hint of an amused twinkle in his blue eyes when he glanced back up at her, and she was relieved that he was smiling.

"She made a point that she was dating a lawyer, and that he worked for the District Attorney's Office. I asked her what his actual job was and she said the EADA, that's you," she continued. "I told her that I knew you, and that I worked for you."

He leaned back in his chair. "Well isn't that interesting? What a small world we live in," he said, still smiling. He grabbed his baseball off his desk and started tossing it up in the air and catching it in his glove. Despite finding the irony of the whole situation amusing, he felt an unnerving curiosity as to why Sierra failed to mention this discovery to him over the weekend. He put it down to her not seeing the significance of it.

"Yeah, it sure is," she replied with a sigh of relief. She suddenly felt foolish in thinking that Mike would react negatively to the coincidence. She paused for a moment. "You know, Sierra really likes you." She tried her best to hide her disheartenment.

He began to feel worried by Connie's words. He wandered just how much Sierra had said about him. He knew that Sierra tended to be a gossip, and he didn't want the details of his bedroom spread around, especially to people he worked closely with. He hadn't discussed this concern with Sierra, but he didn't think there was a need to. "Oh yeah? What did she say about me?" he asked coolly with a chuckle. "All good I hope."

Images of Mike and Sierra kept entering into her mind, and she found it difficult to stop them, after all the details Sierra had given her during their shopping trip. She shrugged. "Not a lot. Just that you and she are going to the Christmas party together," she replied casually.

Mike nodded. "Yeah, we are. Who are you going with?" he enquired.

"Lupo," she answered simply, not making a big deal of it. "He asked me on the weekend. And since I had nobody else to go with, I took him up on his offer."

"Oh, well that works out nicely." Mike noticed the sly smile spread across her face, as she glanced over at him. "What?"

Connie brought the conversation back to Sierra. "Don't you think she's a little young for you?" Her tone was slightly teasing.

His amused expression was replaced by an irritated frown.

_Oh no, I've offended him. _"Well, I mean she's only twenty..." she pointed out gently. She tried to think of a way to explain her concern without making him even more offended. "And you're _not_ twenty, is all I'm saying."

"So, what's age got to with it?"

"Quite a lot, actually," she shot back quickly. "She's just starting her adult life, and you're a well established prosecutor. You're both at different stages. It could raise a few conflicts of interest down the track, I assure you." She heard herself rambling.

An amused smile played on his lips once again, this time for a different reason. He couldn't help but notice the elatedness of Connie's expression, and how her argument had suddenly turned erratic. _Could it be that Connie is jealous of Sierra?_ It wasn't the first time he had noticed this type of behaviour in her, when he had received a little extra attention from other females. He reflected back on a time where a judge's clerk with a crush flirted with him, and Connie had confronted him on the issue, expressing her concerns about his relationship with the clerk. He didn't think he even had a chance with Connie as far as a romantic relationship went, and it wasn't as if he would have chased after her if he did. Either way, he liked to keep his relationships with colleagues professional. A knock at the door broke his thoughts.

Jack entered Mike's office, his reading glasses perched on his nose, holding Carmella Melani's personnel file in his hand. "I see you've added Melani's daughter onto your witness list." he observed, skimming through the details of the file.

He brought Mike and Connie's focus back to the case.

"Yes, to replace Mario Leone," Connie replied. "We're offering her a plea agreement in exchange for a testimony against her father."

Jack nodded in approval, closing the file and placing it on Mike's desk. "Well, like I've said in the past, sometimes a half measure of justice is better than no justice at all."

**Riker's Island Correctional Facility**

Connie hated the stern atmosphere of prisons. The visiting room at Riker's was always so dank and cold, with a slight reek of mildew that seemed to filter through the air, especially in the colder months of the year.

Connie and Mike glanced over at Carmella Melani who sat opposite from them, accompanied by her defence attorney, Mary Weller.

Mike opened the file sitting in front of him. "Now, Ms Weller, it has been established that Ms Melani has co-conspired in the murder of Roberta Leone alongside her father. Mario Leone reported that she has stood by his side every step of the way, and has shared equal animosity towards his Roberta Leone as her father," he began. "It would be really helpful to our case if she was to be added onto the prosecution's witness list."

"Don't come crying to my client just because your key witness couldn't handle the pressure of your case, Mr Cutter," she shot back sardonically. "You should have seen it coming. The man experienced severe emotional disturbance following the murder of his wife, so it's no surprise that he took his own life mid-trial."

Mike cleared his throat. "I know. You're right, Ms Weller," he replied, staring down at the papers in front of him. "We should have seen the signs earlier." He glanced over at Carmella. "But be that as it may, it is our duty to try everything in convicting Mr Melani to ensure justice. We are willing to offer a plea bargain, of course, in exchange for Ms Melani's testimony."

Carmella skimmed her eyes over Mike and Connie. "You expect me to incriminate my own father in court?" she angered. "You call that justice?"

Connie took a page from Carmella's personal file Mike had laid out in front of him. "Don't think you're doing yourself any favours by protecting your father," Connie said, before reading over the sheet of paper she removed from the file. "Because he's not protecting you. He claims that you were the driving force in this crime, that you were the one who told him to kill Roberta Leone. We know that's not true. There's something about your father that you're not telling us, isn't there?"

"They're trying to scare you," Weller said to Carmella. She exchanged a cold glare with Connie. "If you're aiming to make my client piss her pants, Ms Rubirosa, you really should have brought a mop and bucket," she shot back defensively.

Connie glared back at her with a seething fake smile.

Carmella glanced over at Mike, her expression slightly sultry, as her defence attorney gabbled on.

Mike felt a weight on top of his foot beneath the table, and knew that it was Carmella's foot. _Oh god, she can't be. _He gave her a discerning gaze, his expression bordering frustration. "What are you doing Ms Melani?" he questioned sternly.

"Playing footsy," she replied flirtatiously, her eyes seductive. She reached over the table to caress the back of his hands.

_Footsy? _Cutter cried out inside his head, shaken by her suggestion. _What is this girl playing at?_

Her voice turned deep an alluring. "It has been proven to be very successful in achieving one's goals."

He moved his hands away from her, and reared in disbelief. He turned his head toward Connie with a sheepish smile, trying to shield his embarrassment.

"Don't think you can play cute and playful with us, Ms Melani," Connie warned abrasively. "Or our offer may just be taken of the table."

Mike cleared his throat once again, trying to regain composure. "Ms Melani, if you're looking for a deal, your feet really shouldn't be playing a role," he told her. "Now, you can pout and batter your eyelashes all you want, but don't think hitting on a public prosecutor is going to get you and your father off the hook."

Weller gave Carmella a pensive look, shaking her head disapprovingly. "Let me handle this, Carmella." She turned to face Mike and Connie. "So what kind of deal are we looking at here?"

"We are offering Ms Melani fifteen-to-life, in exchange for a testimony against Mr Melani," Mike explained. "We are also taking into account the fact that Ms Melani was under the influence of amphetamines when she colluded with her father, the power her father held over her, as well as his egregious abuse of that power, influencing her involvement in the murder."

Weller took a moment to consider the proposal Mike had presented to her. "Throw in immunity for anything incriminating my client says about herself in court, and you may just have an agreement." She turned to Carmella, who nodded in agreement to the plea bargain.

Mike and Connie were relieved that Carmella had agreed to take the deal, and pleased that they finally had a new witness to replace Mario Leone.

"Done," Mike accepted.

"Hang on, wait a minute," Carmella interrupted. "There is just one thing I would like added to the deal." She whispered in Weller's ear.

Weller exchanged a glance with Mike and Connie. "My client would like myself and Ms Rubirosa to leave the room," she informed them.

Mike and Connie exchanged bemused glances.

"Come on Ms Rubirosa, let's wait outside," Weller encouraged, getting out of her chair. "It's what my client wants, and if you want Mr Melani convicted of murder as well as drug solicitation, both you and Mr Cutter will have to do what my client asks in order to seal the deal."

Connie couldn't help but notice he eagerness in Weller's tone. Connie glanced at Mike, her eyes concerned, suspicious of her intent.

"Don't worry Connie," he assured her. "I can handle this."

She grabbed her briefcase, and stood from her seat before following Weller into the corridor outside the visiting room.

"Well, doesn't this make the room a lot nicer? Just the two of us," Carmella commented. "So much less crowded, don't you think?"

Mike closed the file he had in front of him. "Look, I know you're game Ms Melani," Mike said sternly. "And if this continues, I could have you indicted for sexual harassment." He paused for a moment. "I take it that you wanted time alone with me to discuss your testimony."

"Oh, heartbreaker," she teased. She stared down at the table. "Right, the testimony."

"What did your father do, Carmella?" he pressed. "Tell me what you refused to tell the police earlier."

Carmella paused for a moment before she gave an answer.

Mike looked at her sternly, his eyes piercing through her.

"He wanted to get back at Roberta for taking things that she didn't pay for," she finally replied, still staring down at the table.

"And when you say 'things she didn't pay for' you mean drugs, don't you?"

"She ordered a case of narcotics from my dad, and when she turned up to our place without the money, he threatened her with a knife," she explained.

Mike removed a photo from his briefcase, and placed it on the metal table to show Carmella. The photo showed a metal knife sheath. "Did the blade of the knife look like this?"

Carmella looked closely at the picture. "Yes, I think so. But he didn't kill her that night. When he still didn't get the money a few days later, he went to Roberta's house, and that's when he killed her, with the same knife."

Mike listened intently as Roberta continued to reveal the happenings of the night of Roberta Leone's murder.

"I waited in the car while he went inside. He was only gone for about ten minutes, but when he came back, he was covered in blood."

"Then what happened?"

"He told me he lost control, and that we had to get out of town. I was about to drive us to the boarder, but we had to stop home first to get some stuff. After we got our stuff we drove off, but cop cars stopped us, and we were both arrested. Mario, Roberta's man, was there and must have seen the whole thing. He must have seen my dad's registration number through the window of their house, and called the police."

"Is that all that happened?" he asked, his tone serious.

"My dad also asked me to make threatening phone calls to Roberta, so I did."

After Mike had finished questioning Roberta, he met Connie outside the visiting room.

"How'd you're date go?" Connie teased, her tone bordering on facetious.

Mike smiled in amusement. "Surprisingly well, actually," he replied, as they started to make their way down the corridor of the prison. "She gave full details of the night of the murder." He stared down at the floor as they continued to walk alongside each other, sliding his hands into his pants pockets.

Connie chuckled. "That's good. As long as we've sealed the testimony." They started to make their way down the corridor of the prison. "But, was it really necessary for her to flirt with you the way she did? She did everything but grab your package," she berated. "Who'd have thought you'd be such a lady killer, Mike."

A self gratifying smirk emerged from his severe expression. Despite his beliefs against intimate relationships with colleagues, he had to admit, a wink in the workplace once in a while didn't go unappreciated. And, what further dawned on him was that he had received a lot of gestures of that nature lately. "Well, I have my moments. It's not every day a defendant hits on me, though," he admitted. He glanced back up at her. "What, are you _jealous?_"

_Jealous? That arrogant son of a bitch! _Connie recalled that it hadn't been the first time Mike had accused her of this. She almost scoffed in amusement. "Me? Hardly," she replied. "But don't forget, you do have a girlfriend now, and I'm sure _she_ wouldn't like female prisoners ogling you."

They were both about to sign themselves out, when they noticed a tall redhead, dressed in a black pants-suit, prance confidently down the corridor towards them.

"It's Candice Harley," Mike observed, noticing that she was approaching them. "I wander what she wants."

"Afternoon, counsellors," she greeted, once she had caught up with them. She handed Mike a note. "You know that knife sheath your detectives found? Turns out it was obtained without a warrant."

Mike frowned, reading the note.

"A search warrant _was_ issued," Connie retorted.

Harley shook her head. "Not until _after_ the search of my client's home," she informed them.

Mike slapped the piece of paper on his thigh in frustration, pursing his lips. "Harley's right Connie, this note reports that the search _was_ conducted before a warrant was obtained."

Harley smiled, seeming pleased with her discovery. "See you in court, counsellors," she said cheerfully, before making her way down the corridor towards the visiting room.

Connie took the note from Mike's hand to read it for herself. She shook her head with concern after realising the mistake detectives Lupo and Bernard had made.

After they signed themselves out and returned their visitor's badges to the front service desk, they continued to make their departure from the facility.

"This goes against the detective's credibility in the case," Mike said, his anger flaring. "How could they be so reckless?" He shook his head, annoyed by the detective's irresponsible conduct. He was especially angry at Lupo, considering that he was the first detective to report to Melani's house, and gave the other officers the go ahead with the search. Cutter tried hard to contain his temper.

**Thanks for all the reviews you've left so far so far, xxx. I'm going to make it so that, at the end, everything that's going on between the characters will boil to a head at the Christmas party. Stay tuned;-) **

**What do you think? Feel free to comment! :-D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Things get ugly between Cutter and the cops, and McCoy has a bigger presence in this chapter, enjoyX-D**

Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order_ and its characters; they are the property of Dick Wolf and NBC.

**Office of Executive Assistant DA Michael Cutter, 9:00pm**

Mike's office window overlooked the glowing lights of New York City, the bright globes setting a romantic hue against the cold winter night.

Mike paced around the room irately, his hands on his hips, ranting with frustration. He glanced up at Lupo. "What were you thinking, Detective?"

"I wanted to make sure we got our hands on the evidence before other members of the mob cleaned up the Melanis' dirty laundry," Lupo defended, his argument equally flustered. "These mobsters protect each other. If we hadn't gone in when we did, we would never have found that bloody knife sheath, and would not have had enough incriminating evidence for this case to even go to trial."

Mike ceased pacing for a moment, and stood with his chest pushed forward. He took a moment to consider what Lupo had told him. "That's all well and good, Detective," he said in a low tone, approaching Lupo slowly. "But your actions have made our prosecution of Melani questionable. My case is a hornet's nest now, thanks to you. And the defence will make us all look bad the first chance they get."

Bernard stepped in, angered by Mike's comment. "Oh, so this is just _your_ case is it, Mr Cutter?" he sniped furiously. "What about the rest of us? We're all working hard to get this asshole in prison. If Lupo hadn't searched the Melanis' place when he did, you wouldn't even have a case now."

"Here's something for you to think about Detectives, it's this office that gets the flack for police incompetence most of the time," Mike ranted. "You aren't the ones who have to convince a judge and jury. And you won't be the ones who have their failures splashed all over the Ledger next week."

"Look Mr Cutter, we get it. You're a lawyer. We're cops," Lupo retorted indignantly. "But that doesn't give you the right to talk down to us. Being EADA doesn't give you the authority to tell us how to do our jobs."

"It does when your thoughtless actions despoil the basis of my prosecution, and tarnish the reputation of this office," he shot back. "This case needs both of your statements regarding the obtaining of a weapon. When you take the stand tomorrow, your poor conduct in searching the Melani's property without a warrant will be brought up, and will automatically question your trustworthiness as police officers, and therefore the credibility of your statements."

"What I find funny Mr Cutter is that, when us cops bend the rules, we get slammed, but when you lawyers do it, we're supposed to hear the angels sing," Lupo angered. "Let's not forget the Costas case, where you gave me and Greene the go-ahead to search a pet store, despite your failure to obtain a warrant."

"Yes, I do remember, vividly. I covered your backs," Mike angered. "The informant couldn't give the location of the store because he suffered from Alzheimer's disease, so the judge refused to issue a warrant. Let's not forget that I fought exigent circumstances, obstructed a kidnapping in progress, and saved a young girl's life. And that one bit _me_ in the ass."

"And when we went to Dargerville, you encouraged me to make the application to the judge. I'm only a first year law student, what do I know about obtaining an application from a judge? You made me look like a fool. The judge probably thought I was an idiot," Lupo yelled back. "And what about the People vs. Brody, where you almost suborned perjury?" Lupo noticed Cutter's mouth almost drop in shock, and he knew it was because he was surprised that Lupo even knew about the Brody case. "Don't worry, Mr Cutter, Rubirosa told me that one," he assured him.

"What's with you bringing up all this bullshit?" Mike demanded, his arms flailing. "Are you being belligerent just to annoy me, Detective?"

"And are you being obnoxious because I'm going to the Christmas party with Connie?" he shot back, his eyes seething with rage.

Mike's face reared in confusion and disgust. "What did you say to me?" he asked, his tone agitated.

"I said-"

"No, Detective, I heard what you said. I just wanted to make sure I heard _correctly_," he cut off angrily. He pranced broadly towards his desk, picking up his baseball bat and swinging it through the air. Mike didn't understand Lupo had brought up the fact that he and Connie were going to the Christmas party together. Was Lupo implying that he was intimidated by him? Was Lupo implying that he harboured envy?

Lupo followed him, and stood before his desk, biting his tongue. He didn't intend to let out what he was about to say. He made a ball with his fist. "And what about when we were in Dargerville that night, and you got drunk at the bar, and I had to carry you back to the hotel room," he blasted furiously, his eyes dark. He could still remember the pungent smell on Mike's breath. No way for a respectable Assistant District Attorney to behave, Lupo had thought, though amused at the time. "And then... you kissed me. You kissed me long, and you kissed me hard! Do you remember _that_, Councillor?" He lunged slightly forward, saliva escaping his mouth as he continued to lash out at the speechless attorney. "And don't think I'll chase after the next armed gunman who follows you into the men's room, Mr Cutter. You think I enjoyed seeing your utensils?"

"Okay, okay, that's enough!" Bernard cut in, approaching Lupo. He patted Lupo on the shoulder, and he turned around to face him. He gave him a stern look. "Lupes, I think we had better get back to the precinct."

He glanced back at Mike, who was now standing obstinately beside the whiteboard, clutching tightly onto his bat. He stared Mike up and down. "See you in court tomorrow," he said, his tone deadpan, before making his way out of Mike's office, Bernard following closely behind.

Mike's cold eyes followed the two detectives as they left his office.

Bernard stood in the doorway, and turned around to face Mike. "I'll talk with him," he said.

Mike nodded, his expression bordering animus.

Bernard continued to make his way down the corridor, following Lupo, leaving Mike alone with his thoughts.

There was a knock at his office door, and then Jack entered. He approached Mike slowly. "I couldn't help but overhear the commotion," he commented calmly, his eyes knowing. "It's about the warrant, isn't it? Or more the lack of it."

Mike stared down at the floor in solemness, still clutching his bat.

He stood in front of Mike. "You've done more with less," he reminded him. "You got Melani's daughter to testify tomorrow, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"You've got Mario Leone's impact statement? You've got the DNA evidence?"

Mike nodded, his expression sallow.

"And despite the Milanis' property being searched without a warrant, the knife sheath the detectives found is still being entered into evidence?"

"Yeah, that's right," Mike replied with a sense of defeat, knowing that Jack was right.

"Well, I'd say you're all set," Jack concluded. He paused for a moment. "There was no need for you to speak to Lupo the way you did."

"You should have heard some of the things he fired back at me," Mike defended quickly.

"I did. And I don't blame him," Jack shot back, his tone heated.

"What the detectives did was reckless and irresponsible."

"Oh really?" Jack contested. "I'd say they just about saved your case. Like Bernard said, you wouldn't even have a case if they hadn't found that knife sheath when they did." Jack placed a consolatory hand on Mike's shoulder. "We need Detectives Lupo and Bernard in this case. And we need them in court tomorrow. It's bad enough Lieutenant Van Buren's on non-speaking terms with you. So don't rein your authority as a lawyer over our cop counter parts, you have a greater duty than that."

Mike stared down at the floor, reflecting on what Jack had just said to him.

"The lack of a warrant may _not_ bite you in the ass," Jack reassured him. "And if it does, you've got the other evidence to act as your defence." Jack paused for a moment, his terse lips transforming into a wry smile. "Besides, you've got other things to worry about."

Mike glanced back up at him, his expression puzzled. "Other things to worry about. Like what?" he asked, confused. He couldn't help but notice the slight humour in Jack's tone, and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Jack led Mike into his office. "Follow me, Mike and I'll show you."

Once in his own office, Jack switched on the TV set positioned to the side of the room. "Take a seat Mike," he told him. He switched the channel to _Len Pewl's America_.

Mike sat himself down on one of the padded armchairs in front of Jack's desk, and turned it around to face the TV. "Oh Jack, not this racist, bigoted, gas-bag," he complained. "He's not trashing your campaign again, is he?" Mike glanced up at Jack, who stood beside him holding the remote in his hand.

"No. He's trashing _you_," he replied simply.

Mike's eyes widened. "M-Me?"

"Just watch," Jack told him.

"Executive Assistant District Attorney, Michael Cutter, has officially been dubbed a dirty old man, after being seen walking the streets of Manhattan with his young girlfriend," Pewl reported. Pictures of Mike and Sierra holding hands and smiling at each other appeared on the screen. "New York's top public prosecutor sure seems to be taking after his predecessor, District Attorney Jack McCoy, in this regard. We all know McCoy's no stranger to the ladies." Pewl set about asking people on the street their opinion of the topic in question.

"I think it's disgusting," a woman pushing a pram retorted. "An old man like him getting around with a girl half his age. Where are this girl's parents? Make's you worry about our own kids falling into the same trap."

"Michael Cutter? Yeah I know him," a man said. "He put that Harper guy in jail didn't he, for killing all those people. Still, I think he should find himself a nice bird his own age to knock about with, you know what I'm sayin'? Not like that bony chickadee on his arm."

"Cougars, sugar-daddies, what's the big deal?" a young woman retorted. "People should be allowed to do their own thing. Just because some DA's dating a younger girl, it doesn't mean he's suffering a midlife crisis, _and what business is it of ours anyway?"_

The camera turned to an elderly woman. "It makes you wonder what kind of office Jack McCoy is running," she said, shaking her head. "When he has people like that working for him. That poor young lady having her youth taken away from her like that."

Jack switched off the TV.

Mike stood from his seat with his hands on his hips. "_That guy is outrageous! Sierra's a consenting adult," _he fumed angrily.

"Don't tell me," Jack replied, taking a seat behind his desk. "Tell those morons who believe in Len Pewl's crap."

Mike paced around Jack's office. "What is with this guy? Is he trying to overthrow my case?"

Jack leaned back in his chair. "Reporters. They grab whatever they can to rally up controversy," he answered. "But I wouldn't worry too much about your case, Mike, you've got what you need to have Melani convicted."

"What about my name? My reputation? Trial continues tomorrow."

"It'll die down," Jack replied. "I wouldn't be too worried if I were you. I just wanted to give you the heads up in case you got funny looks in the street."

"Thanks," Mike said, sounding discouraged. He stood in front of Jack's desk. "I-I'm sorry Jack."

"What for? You're the one Pewl's crucifying, not me."

"That comment Pewl made about you being 'no stranger to the ladies'."

"It's not your fault, Mike," Jack replied. "That bastard's just after blood. He'll do anything to condemn the way this office is run." A wry smile played on his lips. "You're just lucky to have found a girl who appreciates the tenderness and sobriety of an older man, and Pewl's probably jealous of that. Good for you, by the way."

Mike smiled back at his boss, meeting his pensive gaze.

"So, Mike, what's this girl, Sarah, like?" he asked with curiosity. He leaned over his desk. "She seems lovely."

Mike glanced down at the floor, feeling uncomfortable. "Jack, you know I don't like talking about that sort of stuff with the people I work with," he answered seriously. "And her name's _Sierra_."

"Oh, come on Mike, I tell you about the wild nights I shared with Claire. Give me something," he pressed. "Sierra. That's a Spanish name, isn't it?"

"Um, yeah it is," Mike answered, clearing his throat in composure. He crossed his legs. "Actually, she's Connie's cousin."

Jack raised his eye-brows with intrigue. "Really? Connie set the two of you up then, did she?"

"No, nothing like that. It's just a coincidence. Actually, I only just found out this morning that she's Connie's cousin. She and Connie met up on the weekend, and discovered that they both share something in common. Me."

"What a small world."

"Yeah, that's what I said. Sierra and I will be attending the Christmas party together," Mike explained. "I feel a weight has sort of been lifted, now that you know."

"Well, I can't wait to meet her." Jack's expression turned almost wistful. "You know, I can see the family resemblance between Sierra and Connie, no wander you like her so much."

**Mike's apartment, 11:00pm**

Mike pushed through heavy door of his apartment, and closed it behind him quietly once he was inside, careful not to wake Sierra who was sleeping in their room down the hall. He dropped his briefcase onto the floor, and tiptoed across the lounge room to turn on the light switch.

"_Fuck!"_ he yelled, tripping over something in the dark. He picked himself up and turned on the light switch, then glanced down at what he had tripped over, realizing it was a heavy cardboard box that Sierra had left there. He picked up the box, and placed it to the side of the room against the wall, so that nobody else would fall victim to tripping over it. It was then that he had realised that the lounge room was filled with boxes Sierra had moved in. He was too tired to move the rest of them, so continued to make his way down the hallway to the bedroom.

"Mike," he heard a groggy voice call out. "Are you okay?"

Sierra sat up, and watched as a shadow approached the bedroom.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mike replied, leaning against the doorway for a moment. He made his way towards the bed and turned on the bedside lamp. That was when he realised Sierra was wearing one of his pressed white shirts, but he was too tired to care. Besides, he thought she looked adorable in it.

"How was work today?" she asked, squinting in face of the bright light, her eyes still adjusting.

"Things worked out okay," he replied half-heartedly, removing his shoes and socks. He smiled at her. "But I don't want to talk about that."

She glanced over at the clock radio on the night stand. "You're home pretty late," she observed.

"I know. I was doing trial prep." He quickly changed out of his suit into a t-shirt and sweat pants, and slid into the bed next to her. "How was your day?" he asked, kissing her, before switching the light off. "You've moved some more of your things in, I see." He pulled her close to him, finding the warmth of her body a welcoming comfort after a long day at the office.

"I'm sorry about those boxes I left out there, I'll tidy them up tomorrow," she apologised, rubbing his arm. She paused for a moment. "I saw this show today, with that political commentator."

Mike sighed with agitation. "Let me guess, Len Pewl?"

"Yeah, that's the one. He said that our relationship was disgusting, can you believe that?" she angered in disbelief. "What a jerk."

"I know, I saw it too." Mike slid his hand through her sleep-tousled hair. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

She squeezed his hand, finding comfort in the slight calluses against her soft skin.

"I work for a politician, so you've got to expect some retaliation from the media," Mike explained gently, drifting off to sleep. "People like Pewl go after whatever they can to bring down our work. You can't let it get to you, because that's what they want."

**Thanks again for the reviews posted so far, their much appreciated*^_^* **

**xoxoxo**

**What do you think? Feel free to comment:-D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Mike's case takes a turn for the worst, along with his reputation. Let me know what you think *^_^***

Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order _and its characters; they are the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. I do not own _Prada._

**60 Centre Street, Tuesday, 9:30am**

Mike continued to question his witness, drawing out key points from her testimony and elaborating upon them. He felt a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, as Carmella Melani's testimony neared a close.

Everything was running smoothly. Carmella had answered his questions with truth and accuracy, and Candice Harley had only objected to one of his comments, throughout the entire testimony. What was even more surprising, yet relieving for Mike, was that the knife sheath obtained by the detectives without a search warrant was still entered into evidence, and without prejudice.

"Ms Melani, what happened after your father returned to the car, with his shirt covered in blood?" he asked, pacing before the jury.

Carmella fidgeted nervously, feeling her father's seething eyes pierce through her, as he watched her from the defence table. "My dad said that we needed to get out of town, so that the cops wouldn't come after us," she explained. "I drove us back to our place so that we could get some things to take with us. We then took off. I thought our best bet would be to drive to the boarder, but then cop cars chased after us, only a few blocks away from our house. They caught us, and then we were arrested."

"Thank you," Mike said to her, relieved to have finished questioning his main witness. He turned towards the Judge. "Nothing further, your honour." He then took his seat next to Connie at the prosecution table.

Melani's defence attorney, Candice Harley, approached the witness stand, ready to cross-examine the people's witness. There was no denying that the bloody knife sheath that the prosecution had presented to the court had set her argument back. But she hadn't given up. Not yet. There was one more trick up her sleeve, and she knew it was bound to be a winner. Even if it meant she had to fight dirty.

She folded her arms in composure, and flashed the jury a confident smile before turning towards Carmella. "Ms Melani, I understand that Mr Cutter agreed to a deal of a reduced sentence in exchange for your testimony against your father, did he not?"

Carmella looked down at the floor, avoiding Harley's hawkish gaze. She looked back up at her, and tried her best to suppress her timidity. "Yeah, he did," she replied, sounding tough. "So what? It's better than a life sentence."

Harley moved closer to the Carmella, placing her hands on the cold smoothness of the wooden stand. She hesitated for a moment, taking time to form her words. "Now, Mr Cutter... he, ah... he's a very attractive man - wouldn't you say?"

Mike nearly choked, startled by Harley's words.

"And it's logical to assume that lawyers, and especially lawyers who are attractive, are very successful in getting what they want, don't you think?" She pressed.

Carmella smiled nervously. "Yeah, I guess so."

"And this would apply in your case. With Mr Cutter's sledgehammer persuasion, flattering you with all his charm, and good looks..." she trailed, tilting her head, her eyes steady and penetrating. "Very hard for a girl to refuse, isn't it?"

"Objection! Where is this leading?" Mike demanded.

Judge Morale looked down at Harley. "Ms Harley, what's this all about?" he asked with an exasperated sigh, doubtful of her ability to justify her questioning.

"Your honour, I am demonstrating to the court the possible tactics the prosecution used in swaying an indicted co-conspirator to testify against my client," she explained. "The reason for my asking this question is to contradict the credibility of this witness. Has Ms Melani really taken the stand today because she believes full heartedly that the deal she made with the DA is fair, and she wants to see justice done? Or has she really taken the stand, and bent the truth slightly, because Mr Cutter put the moons on her, as you might say?" She continued to rant. "It's not fair to my client if the lead prosecutor led his material witness to believe that she would receive a conjugal visit from a civil servant who looks like he's just walked out of a Prada catalogue, and so egregiously lured her into testifying?"

Judge Morale took a moment to consider her answer, his expression transforming into an amused smile. "Because lawyers use whatever they have, right?" He rested his head on his palm, grasping onto his ballpoint pen, now understanding Harley's reasoning in her attack.

"Yes your honour, that is _exactly_ what I am saying," she replied. "Mr Cutter used his own attractiveness in winning over a witness, just as he used his colleague, Ms Rubirosa's, attractiveness in influencing a juror's verdict in another case. _Without_ her permission, I may add."

Connie felt her cheeks burn crimson, feeling jurors' astounded and scrutinising glances turn her way. She bowed her head in embarrassment, and focused on the notepad she had placed on the table in front of her, not wanting to face them. Despite her brief humiliation, she found herself thankful that Mike was the one who was in the firing line at that moment.

"Your honour, this is ridiculous!" Mike protested, outraged by Harley's allegation.

"No, I disagree, Mr Cutter. Ms Harley has a point," Judge Morale said to him carefully. "It's a stretch, but I'll allow it." His eyes peered down at Harley. "Please continue, councillor."

Mike took his seat, rolling his eyes in response to Harley's ludicrous approach.

"Thank you, your honour," she replied, calm and diplomatically. She turned to face Carmella once again. "Ms Melani, isn't it true that, when Mr Cutter and Ms Rubirosa met with you at Riker's to discuss a plea agreement in exchange for a testimony, at some point you were alone with Mr Cutter? After Ms Rubirosa and your lawyer, Ms Weller, were requested to leave the room?"

"Yes," she replied.

Harley paced around the room. "Well, that's a set up." She moved closer towards the stand, a slight mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Now, ah, Mr Cutter was looking rather debonair that day, wasn't he? Dressed in his three piece suit, and doused in his Vetiver…"

"Objection!" Mike cut in. "That's a personal attack on the prosecution."

"Withdrawn."

Mike sat back down again, flustered by Harley's brash questioning, her approach now setting him on edge.

"When you were alone with Mr Cutter, he tried to seduce you, correct?"

Mike's eyes widened in surprise. If anything, Carmella Melani attempted seducing him, and failed miserably, not the other way around. However, he relented in objecting. He wanted to see where Harley was headed with this argument.

"More than that. He made advances towards me," Carmella replied.

"Objection!"

"Overruled."

"Ms Melani, could you please tell the court what happened during the time you and Mr Cutter were alone together in the visitors' room?" Harley continued.

Carmella stared down at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with the people surrounding her. "Mr Cutter put his hand on my arm, and he told me that... I was very beautiful for a girl who helped her father deal drugs," she said. "He said that it must be lonely being locked in a tiny cell all day, and said that if I co-operated, and took the deal and testified..." she paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, and glanced over at the jury. "...He would _make it worth my while_."

"Objection! That is an outright lie!"

"Overruled."

"And how did you respond to that? I'm assuming Mr Cutter was referring to sleeping with you when he said that."

"I told him 'no'. I didn't want to corrupt the system like that. I agreed to testify, with just the plea agreement, but nothing else," Carmella explained. "After I told him about my dad's involvement in the murder, he still pressured me even more. That guy Cutter, he wanted a taste of me, you know what I'm sayin'? Like I was some cheap ho, I'm not like that." Her tone boarded on agitation. "I told him 'no' again, but then he told me that with the information I gave him, he had enough to subpoena me anyways, _without_ the reduced sentence."

"What did you do?" Harley asked, her expression harbouring sympathy for the seemingly defenceless young woman sitting behind the witness stand.

She hesitated for a moment, and stared down at her hands. "So... I let him feel me up," she replied simply, glancing up once again, and skimming her eyes over members of the jury, her expression sincere. "When I was kid, my momma used to always tell me that guys like Cutter always get what they want with their power. And like Mr Cutter said to me, _'I'm a DA, you're a criminal, I can do what I want with you'." _Tears pricked the brims of her eyes."It wasn't so bad. I mean, Mr Cutter's not that bad looking for an old guy, and I've done worse things in my life."

"Thank you," Harley said, before taking her seat. "No more questions your honour."

Mike stood from his seat, his stern, cold eyes following Harley as she made her way back towards the defence table and sat down. "Permission to approach, your honour?" he asked, his voice peeved. He balled his hand into a fist, trying to contain his temper.

Judge Morale seemed fed up with Mike's pretesting, but took a moment to consider his request nonetheless. He relented, finally nodding, and signalled for both the prosecution and the defence counsels to approach the bench.

Mike waltzed tersely up to the bench, incensed by Harley's accusations and Carmella's disloyalty. He fired an icy glare in Carmella's direction.

Connie followed closely behind.

Mike kept steady and controlled composure. "The things that this witness just testified are completely untrue," he said quietly to the Judge, resting his arms on the bench. "I want Ms Harley's cross-examination stricken."

"Your honour, if the people's witness lied during my cross, how do we know she didn't lie just before, during Mr Cutter's questioning?" she defended, feeling both Connie and Mike's burning stares.

Mike sneered as Harley gave her explanation. "And what about those personal comments about me Ms Harley was dishing out? They were completely unnecessary," he fumed, expressing with his hands. "And just to make it clear, it was Ms Melani who wanted Ms Rubirosa and Ms Weller out of the room when I interviewed her, _not me._" His eyes moved from Judge Moral to Harley.

"I was setting a clear direction for my argument," Harley continued. "Ms Weller provided me with information regarding the meeting Ms Melani had with Mr Cutter."

"Oh, and when was the prosecution going to be provided with this information?" Connie piped up angrily, folding her arms.

"My chambers, now," Judge Morale instructed, his tone stern. He now realised that Harley had corrupted the courts by hiding evidence from Mike and Connie. He stood from his seat and made his way towards the double doors located at the side of the courtroom.

"Why would she lie to her own defence attorney?"Harley asked, as the four of them walked briskly down the hallway to Judge Morale's chambers, the judge leading the way, listening to the attorneys quarrel amongst each other.

Mike bristled in response to Harley's farfetched explanations, her nasally voice causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up on end. He was tempted to yell at her to get her sinuses drained.

"_Because she was raised by a drug-lord!"_ Mike blasted angrily at Harley. "It comes second nature to her."

"You direct yourself to me, Mr Cutter," Judge Morale ordered. "Ms Harley, whether the people's witness is telling the truth or not is an irrelevance. The issue I'm concerned about right now is you retaining evidence from the prosecution."

Harley stared down at the ground for the remainder of the short trip, her expression now sullen.

Mike paused for a moment. "Your honour, I have a pretty set idea of what's going on here. Ms Harley is pretending to believe Ms Melani's lies, so that she can perjure the courts without penalty," he argued. "Either that, or Ms Harley is collaborating with Ms Melani and Ms Weller to overthrow the prosecution's case."

They reached outside the judge's chambers.

"Mr Cutter, you do realize that you are accusing the defence of suborning perjury?"

He slid one of his hands in his pants pocket, sighing with slight relief, sensing that the judge was buying his argument. "Yes, your honour," he replied matter-of-factly. "Along with defamation, withholding information from opposing counsel... He took a moment to exchange a fractious glance with Harley. "...and _witness tampering_."

Judge Morale's eyes skimmed over all three attorneys as he opened the door and ushered them inside.

He made his way across the Spartan room, which was decorated with various justice themed knickknacks, including a figurine of Themis, the goddess of justice, placed on the windowsill. He took a seat behind his hardy desk.

The three attorneys stood opposite him.

"Mr Cutter, they're very serious accusations if they're true," Judge Morale told him sternly, his dark brown eyes serious. "And the seducing and blackmailing of a witness, as your witness so claims you did, is an obstruction of justice." His glance shifted to Harley, who stood there with her hands together in front of her lap. "And as for you Ms Harley, keeping key information from the prosecution alone is enough to have you removed from this case," he warned her.

"And whether that information is true or not is arguable." Connie glanced across at Harley, who didn't look up. Connie turned to face the judge, folding her arms. "Your honour, I can at least vouch that, in regards to Mr Cutter's conduct, he did not give any signs of making advances towards Ms Melani, romantic or otherwise, that I could see. And the fact that Ms Melani didn't come forward earlier puts these claims into question."

"But you don't have proof that he _did not_ make such advances towards Ms Melani, after you and Ms Weller left the visitor's room, do you, Ms Rubirosa?"

Connie sighed, feeling defeated. "No, your honour," she replied. She exchanged a concerned glance with Mike. "However... the footage taken by the surveillance camera that day should tell us something."

Judge Morale shrugged. "It's worth a look." He typed on his computer to check the records of the day Mike and Connie met with Carmella at the prison. "According to this, you visited Ms Melani at Riker's Island Correctional Facility on Monday the twenty-ninth of November, at 8:45."

"Yes, that's correct," Mike replied.

"Says here that the surveillance camera of the visitor's room where that interview took place was out of order at that time," Judge Morale read from the computer monitor. He looked up at Mike and Connie with slight sympathy, the light projecting from the computer screen reflecting off his reading glasses. "Sorry councillors, no alibi."

"Judge, you don't honestly believe that in my position as a public prosecutor, and as EADA, that I would do something so corrupt and reckless?" Mike contested. "Ms Melani was the one who came onto _me_. I threatened to reprimand her for her actions, and I told her that I'd indict her for sexual harassment if she continued."

"I will start by saying that it is not the first time a lawyer in my jurisdiction has used their sexuality as a persuasive tool. I could badger on about the details of cases, from the People vs. Davidson to the People vs. Southerland, where a witness has blatantly reported on the stand that an officer of the court used their sexuality to coach them into a testimony, along with other forms of blackmail." Judge Morale leaned over his desk and let out a heavy breath. "Mr Cutter, I've known Ms Weller as a defence attorney for many, many years, and I can't honestly say that she would knowingly be involved in an operation such as the one you're accusing her and Ms Harley of being a part of," he told him, removing his reading glasses and clutching them in his hands. "And she is no gullible fool. If Ms Melani was lying, she'd be the first to pick up on it, and would most certainly discourage her client from committing perjury." He swivelled his chair to face Harley, who was standing there painstakingly waiting for the judge's tongue lashing. "As for you Ms Harley, after learning of your failure to provide the prosecution with valuable evidence, you're off the case. A new attorney will be appointed as Mr Melani's legal counsel."

"Your honour, it's hardly fair that my client suffer because of my misconduct," she protested.

"Your client's new attorney will be provided with all the information regarding the case in order to take over," he assured her. "And hopefully, your client's new attorney will be more morally correct in approaching this case."

Harley opened her mouth to speak, but was abruptly cut off by the judge's harsh words. "One more word out of you councillor, and I'll cite you for contempt," he threatened her. "You'll be lucky if you're not disbarred for this infringement, once the Bar Overseers go over your records with a fine tooth comb. You committed a violation of the rules of evidence, Ms Harley, and for that, you will not be let off lightly."

He turned to face Mike and Connie once again. "I can't say whether Ms Melani is in fact lying, there being no evidence to suggest that she is. And quit honestly Mr Cutter, after watching that Len Pewl's special last night, with that report about you getting around town with that young girl, I don't find what Ms Melani said about you to be that difficult to believe," he said. "Therefore, I will not have Ms Melani's testimony stricken." He paused for a moment. "I will not reprimand you for your supposed conduct, Mr Cutter, as I do not have sufficient evidence to prove whether you made inappropriate advances towards Ms Melani, just as I lack sufficient evidence in proving that you _did not_ engage in these sort advances. But let it be a warning to you, councillor, that if you so much as wink at another witness in future, I will order an investigation into your conduct by the Legal Review Board. Do I make myself clear?"

Mike stiffened in response to the judge's dressing down of him. "Yes, your honour," he replied solemnly.

Mike pushed the door of the front entrance of the courthouse. "That bitch practically accused me of slutting myself for a testimony," Mike angered, walking briskly into the outside cold, Connie following behind him.

The two attorneys proceeded to make their way towards the top of the courthouse steps.

Connie adjusted the cap placed on her head, and slipped her hands into her leather gloves. Mike was in such a hurry to leave the courthouse after the witness testimony had ended, she didn't have much time to dress herself properly in the cloak room. "Which bitch?" she asked, amused by Mike's persistent sulking. "Candice Harley or Carmella Melani?"

Mike mumbled something under his breath.

They made their descent from the courthouse steps in silence, and started head back to the office.

Mike slid his hands in his coat pockets, and hunched over in the cold, a gust of frigid wind blowing in their direction.

Mike was the first to break the silence. "I don't see why Candice Harley had to rhapsodise to the jury about how drop dead gorgeous I am," he ranted sardonically. "Carmella's two-faced testimony was enough to put our case in jeopardy, and to make me look like some shady controller."

"Mike, I don't think Candice Harley's attack on your reputation was personal. She used what she had to win her case." she reasoned. _Not unlike someone else I know. _"If it _was_ personal, she'd probably be up at the parking lot of the DA's office right now, slashing your tires."

They continued to make their way down the street, their eyes focusing on the ground.

Connie hesitated for a moment, not responding. "I can't believe Judge Morale fell for it," she said with disbelief. She just thought she'd mention it. It wasn't a usual occurrence for a Supreme Court judge to fall into deception, though she was aware that it did happen on the odd occasion.

"Well, like he said, he's known Mary Weller for a long time. He was probably trying to protect his friend," Mike pointed out.

"We could move to void the plea agreement," she suggested, directing to the topic of conversation to the case they were working on. She wanted to change the subject, beginning to grow tired of Mike's ranting about being victimised.

"Yeah, but just how do we prove that Melani's daughter lied on the stand?"

Connie hesitated for a moment, not responding. "I don't know," she finally answered, glancing up at him, her eyes harbouring slight contempt. "_Did_ she lie on the stand, Mike?"

He stopped walking. His eyes widened, and his jaw slightly dropped. He was speechless. "W-what are you saying, Connie?" he asked. He sounded almost as though he had been winded.

"_Did_ you seduce Carmella Melani into testifying?" she pressed, her tone hardening. "I can't say if you did or not, Mike, because I wasn't there."

Connie couldn't believe how bitter she sounded. Neither could Mike.

Mike felt his voice catch in his throat. "Connie, y-you know me."

At least, he thought she did.

Yeah, she knew him. He was Michael Cutter, the hard-driven Manhattan prosecutor, who would risk anything to win a conviction. It didn't seem to matter to him what rules he had to break, or who he had to defy, or had to hurt. There was 'Hang-'em-High' McCoy, and then there was 'Win-At-All-Costs' Cutter. And Connie didn't need to read through Mike's records to know how ruthless he could be.

Harley was right. Mike could easily persuade a witness into helping him, with his good looks and charm, no matter what they were up against. He _was_ gorgeous. _Oh no, she did not just think that about her boos?_

"Connie, I let you in on everything when we're working on a case," he said, almost grovelling.

_That certainly wasn't the case when you pimped me out to jury. _She shrugged. "I was just thinking that you were keeping up the charade because you didn't want me to be dragged down with you," she said honestly. "I can fight my own battles, Mike."

"If I say something didn't happen, it didn't happen," he assured her.

Connie hesitated for a moment, not responding. "Okay Mike, if you say so," she finally answered.

He wasn't convinced.

They continued to make their way back to the office in silence.

**A/N: The next chapter is forwarded to a week after these events. Mike begins to see flaws in Sierra, (she gets up to typical college student stuff), causing Mike to question his relationship with her. **

**What do you think? Feel free to comment:-D**


	7. Chapter 7

**Finally got my next chapter done. Something shady about Sierra's past is revealed to Mike. I hope y'all like, let me know what you think *^_^***

Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order_ and its characters, they are the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. Sierra is mine.

**Mike's apartment, 8:20pm**

Mike had spent the afternoon at the mall, searching for a dress for Sierra to wear to the upcoming Christmas party they were attending, hoping to surprise her when he got home. After having been shown an array of different colours and fabrics by a spiffy salesman by the name of Emmett, Mike had chosen a turquoise Charmeuse A-line skirted cocktail dress, with a v-neck, rouched bodice, and tight ruffles along the straps. He kept in mind that Connie had said that turquoise was Sierra's favourite colour.

He pushed through the door of his apartment, and was greeted by an unsightly mess of clothes, books, and kitchen utensils sprawled across the living room, and some of the boxes Sierra had placed there from when she first moved in the week before were sitting there yet to be sorted through, a minefield for any poor soul who happened to trip over them.

He placed his briefcase, and the box containing the dress he had bought for Sierra, on the floor. He removed his coat and scarf and hung them on the coat rack next to the door.

He looked around for Sierra, who hadn't yet made an appearance. She usually rushed up to greet him with a hug and a kiss as soon as he got home, but she was nowhere in sight.

_She must have gone out,_ he thought, his expression sinking in disappointment. He considered that she was probably at a bar with her college friends, or at a meeting for the poetry society she had just joined.

At that moment, Sierra made her way down the hallway on the other side of the room, her arms outstretched in an embrace. "There's my gorgeous Executive Assistant District Attorney," she said exuberantly, wrapping her legs around him and placing a wet kiss on his cheek. "How'd you're big case go today?"

"Not bad. The case pled out," he replied begrudgingly, a little overwhelmed by her fervent greeting. He held her a little tighter, and let his cheek brush against her soft hair.

Mike's case had ended with Melani agreeing to a sentence of twenty-to-life, without parole, his knew defence counsel persuading Mike and Connie into a plea bargain. It was a far lesser sentence than he would have preferred, but it was better than a hung jury. He knew very well that there was a good chance of Melani walking away a free man, with Candice Harley's egregious actions, and Carmella's dishonesty, having put his prosecution in jeopardy. Both Carmella Melani and Candice Harley deserved to rot in pit full of entrails as far as he was concerned.

He noticed that Sierra's eyes had fallen to the thin rectangular box he had placed on the floor, and couldn't help the wry smile that creped across his face.

"Oh, I got you a little something," he said simply. He picked the box up from the floor and handed it to her. "It's surprise."

"_Estoy emocionado!"_ she exclaimed. Her expression lit up like an excited puppy dog. "Really, _I looove surprises!"_ She could hardly contain her enthusiasm. "What is it?"

A slightly mischievous smirk played on his lips. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?" he said, an almost fatherly presence hindering behind his tone.

She took the box from him, and carried it towards the couch, and took a seat. "Oooh, this is, so exciting," she exclaimed, scrambling to open the box to see what was inside.

Mike followed closely behind, careful not to trip over the things scattered over the floor, and took a seat next to her, trying to keep up with her urgency. He couldn't wipe the amused grin off his face. Sierra was like a little kid on Christmas morning.

After hastily removing the golden ribbon tied around the elegant box, she paused for a moment and glanced up at Mike. "Is it, like, something I can wear?" she asked with a crooked half-smile, trying to draw a hint from him.

"You'll just have to wait and see," he replied in an even tone. His voice was slightly dark, very much like the one he sometimes used when interrogating a defendant at Riker's.

Her eyes turned seedy. "Is it something _kinky?_" she asked seductively.

"What? No!" He sounded surprised.

"Oh."

There was an awkward pause.

"Open it, open it," Mike insisted, now impatient, her enthusiasm getting him excited in anticipating her opening the package.

She proceeded, lifting the lid of the box and dropping it onto the floor. The tissue paper that was wrapped around the dress rustled as she removed it, unveiling the silky material beneath. She lifted the dress from the box, her eyes steady on the garment before her.

He could tell by her silence that he had chosen wisely.

"It's for the Christmas party my office is holding this weekend," he informed her, watching her eyes fixate on the delicate shine. He sidled a little closer, taking in the light scent of her perfume. "If you don't like the colour, or style, I can always get and exchange..."

She turned to face him, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Oh no Mike, this is so perfect," she cut him off, seemingly enamoured by the beautiful gift. She pulled him close, wrapping her arms tightly around him, and kissed him sincerely. She slid her fingers through his greying hair. "This is such a wonderful dress and a kind thought. Thank you." She tugged at his tie teasingly as she slid onto his lap. "You are definitely going to get something extra special tonight, hombre viejo (old man)."

He was glad to see the joy he had brought her.

"Hmm, well papi knows how to spoil his corino," he murmured huskily, his stormy blue eyes meeting her sultry green ones.

His eyes always seemed to remind her of waves crashing against rocks, like those of an Aruban Natural Bridge scene. So determined and masterful. And when he winked at her, she felt like a naughty school girl who had been sent to the principal's office.

She stood from the couch with the dress draped over her arm. "I'm going to try this on right now," she pronounced, making her way down the hallway to the bedroom, his twinkling eyes following her.

His expression transformed into a slightly confused frown. He understood what those words in Spanish meant. _Old man?_

/

It had been ten minutes since Sierra disappeared down the hall, eager to try on the dress. He had now become concerned by her lengthy disappearance. He got out of his seat and made his way down the hallway towards their bedroom.

He peered into the mirror that was hanging on the wall behind the miniature pebble-fountain sitting on the art nouveau coffee table against the wall, and stopped quickly to look at his appearance. He took a moment to study his reflection.

_I'm not that much of an old man, _he reassured himself, the brazen comment Sierra had made earlier regarding his age still prying on his mind. He pulled back the skin around his face, making the depression lines on his forehead, and around his eyes, disappear.

_Maybe... if I get some work done... _he considered for a moment, but then realised how petty he was sounding_. No Mike, you can't think like that! Aging creeps up on everyone, and you may as well embrace it. _

After all, Jack seemed to have been taking it in his stride, still riding his motorcycle to the office on the odd occasion.

_What are a few grey hairs, and a couple of wrinkles?_

He moved closer towards the bedroom door and knocked on it a couple of times. "How ye doin' there, sweet-hawrt?" he called out to Sierra. He stood by the door, waiting for her to answer.

She heard Mike's voice outside the bedroom door, his gruff New Englander accent sending a slight shiver down her spine. She signalled for him to enter. "Y-you can come in," she replied hesitantly.

He swung the door open and entered the room. He approached her with a playful grin. "You need papi to help you with your zipper?" He looked her up and down, very pleased with what he saw.

He stood still in his tracks for a moment, warmth washing over him as he took her in. The dress fitted perfectly around her torso and hips, accentuating her subtle curves. The deep oceanic colour brought out the green of her eyes, and the vibrancy of the bright shade mellowed against her complexion, complimenting her creamy-olive skin and jet black hair.

He felt himself throbbing inside his pants a little, the sight of her wrapped in the satiny turquoise silk rushing to his senses. He was thankful he was still wearing his suit jacket to conceal his reaction.

She turned to face him. "Ah, no thanks Mike, I did the zipper myself," she told him, and he couldn't help but detect a hint of apprehension in her voice.

Oh no, something was wrong.

"I meant for when you take it off," he said, trying to lighten the mood, his eyes following her as she moved across the room, before taking a seat at the end of the bed. His lively expression softened. "Is everything okay, pumpkin?" He paused to get one more glance at her while she was still standing up. "You look incredible by the way."

He made his way towards her, and took a seat next to her on the edge of the bed. "Is something wrong?"

She didn't answer, her expression sullen, as she stared down at the floor. She seemed to have her mind on something else.

Mike grew concerned. He could tell that something was bothering her. "Tell me, sweetheart, what's wrong?" He pressed gently. "If you don't like the dress, I can always change it. Maybe we can find something together."

Her eyes locked with his calm blue of his. The calm before a storm. "Like I said Mike, the dress is beautiful. And it's a kind thought," she assured him. She stared down at the floor again. "But, I don't think I can wear this."

Mike was puzzled. _First she loves the dress and now she's saying she can't wear it. _"Why not? The dress looks great on you," he said. He moved his hand towards her shoulder to feel the soft crumpled ruffles on the straps. "If you're feeling guilty about me buying it for you, I'll have you know, it wasn't all _that _expensive."

"No, it's not that," she replied quickly.

"Well, what is it then?"

"I-I, um..." She stood up off the bed. "The dress has a low back."

"Oh." Mike was a little confused.

He never thought that something so trivial would be problem for Sierra, especially considering that the dress wasn't any different from the things she would normally wear, with a plunging neckline and a skirt cut above the knee.

"Oh, so the dress is cut too low at the back?" He looked her up and down, and he didn't see what she was complaining about. "You don't look like slut, or anything, if that's what you're worried about." _Hell, attending a work-related event, he would make sure she didn't. _"The dress looks subtle, graceful. You don't look anything like a showgirl." He attempted to cheer her up.

Her expression remained terse, which only exacerbated Mike's worry.

"The thing is, Mike. I-I've got... scars... on my body... that I would rather people didn't see."

His expression transformed into a startled frown. He took a moment to take in her words. _Scars? What kind of scars? Physical ones? _If they were, they had to have been on a part of her body he hadn't seen before. He had never noticed any scars on her, or not any that were terribly obvious.

She didn't quite know how to read Mike's dumbfounded expression, as his eyes searched for a further explanation.

He took a moment to form his words. He hoped that she would take what he was about to say in the spirit it was intended, not wanting to discourage her. "These... scars, I don't understand..." He spoke carefully, noticing the glint of vulnerability in her eyes.

Her movements were slow and cautious, wavering. She turned her back towards him, revealing what appeared to be hypertrophic burns scar, tanned, thickened, and raised, the patch reaching about seven inches squared down her back. He moved closer to get a better look. He also noticed slightly faded circular marks along her lower back, some more faded than others, some appearing to have been there longer than others. He had seen marks like these before, in the countless child abuse cases he had tried as a prosecutor. Cigarette burns. The particular scarring indicated that they were intentional, and gradual.

He ran the tips of his fingers lightly down her back, feeling the roughness of the raised and blistered skin.

"When me and my family lived in _Saltillo Coahuila_, my dad, he drank... a lot," she began,

She turned around to face him, and he shifted closer towards her, draping a lose consolatory arm around her waist.

She was stilted and hesitant with her words. "H-he used to get violent... with my mom, me, my brother... One night... my mom was cooking in the backyard over this _bidon de aceite, _it's sort of like a barbeque... and my dad pushed me onto it," she said, her eyes moving to the floor, avoiding Mike's steady gaze. Her voice was shaky and timid, and she began to feel tears pricking the brims of her eyes. _No, no, I can't cry. Not right now. Not in front of him. _"And that's how I got the scar."

Mike didn't say anything, just let her talk. He began to feel a lump in his throat.

She couldn't hold her tears any longer, and her eyes flooded. "My mom said it was _el como_, the last straw, and when I got sent home from hospital a week later, she fled with me and my brother to America. She said that her sister would take us in." She felt the warmth of Mike's gentle hand rubbing her arm in comfort, and she didn't care that she was blubbering like a little brat in front of him anymore.

He reached over the bed to retrieve a box of tissues from the nightstand, and handed them to Sierra.

"We lived with Tia (Aunt) Rosa and Tio (Uncle) Geraldo, Connie's mom and dad, for the next two years," she continued, wiping her eyes. "And then my mom met Paul, he's a widower and runs a mail delivery service. We all got on really well, and we moved to the Bronx with him. He's me and Cedro's stepdad now."

Mike picked up his navy blue robe that was swung over the chair sitting beside the bed, and wrapped it around Sierra's shoulders, trapping her arms inside. He paused for a moment before he spoke, pulling her a little closer. "We'll take the dress back tomorrow," he said softly. He placed a fallen lock of hair behind her ear. "You can pick out something else you like."

Their thoughts had been broken by the shrill ringing of the phone in the lounge room.

After she had finished wiping her eyes, Sierra stood from the bed, and made her way towards the door, and down the hallway to answer it.

"It's probably for me," she told him, still sniffling. "I'm going out with my old roommate tomorrow night. My cell phone's getting fixed after I dropped it in the pool, so I told her to ring here."

Mike nodded, his expression solemn, as he watched her leave the room.

He stood from the bed, and followed her down the hallway to the next room.

The phone had stopped ringing and, he knew she had answered it.

"Hello, hello," she said into the phone. She heard breathing on the other end of the line, but there was no answer. "Hello?"

There was more heavy breathing, and then there was a loud 'click', followed by a dial tone.

She shrugged, putting the phone down. She turned around to face Mike leaning against the back of the couch.

"They just hung up," she said. "Must have been a wrong number."

**A/N:** **I found this chapter hard to get down, especially the second half. I hope I got my Spanish translations right, I just googled them:-b **

**What do you think? Feel free to comment:-D**


	8. Chapter 8

**A character's life is in danger. Mike becomes suspicious of Connie and Lupo's professional relationship. Let me know what you think, enjoy *^_^***

Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order_ and its characters. Sierra is mine.

**Mike's apartment, 9:45am**

The morning sunlight poured through the kitchen window, reflecting off the chrome table placed in the middle of the room, making it sort of gleam. Dishes and cutlery were piled up in the sink, and pages of the New York Times were left in a jumbled mess on the table, over from Sierra and Mike's breakfast rituals. The cleaning lady that Mike had hired would be dropping by later in the day to clear the mess away, and Sierra was thankful she no longer had to monitor her roommates cleaning up.

After seeing Mike off, Sierra had decided to skip her morning French Revolution lecture, and finish off a project she had been working on for another class, eager to get it over and done with. She found that she always did her best work in Central Park, but hadn't been game enough to visit its grounds up until now because of the recent frigid weather that had washed over New York. The first snowfall of the season hadn't even hit the city yet, but she knew that it was on its way soon enough. She figured that since it was such a considerably nice day, she would head over there while she still could.

She showered, alone, and preferred it that way. She had become tired of other female students she shared the dorm bathroom with staring at her and asking questions about her scars. They weren't cruel or patronising, like the girls in high school, just morbidly curious. Sierra usually just brushed their queries off, and told them quit freely that she was involved in a house fire.

She now realised how good it felt not having someone looking over her shoulder each morning and saying: _"girl, that is lookin' nasty, how the hell you get that?"_

After changing into jeans and a grey turtle neck sweater, she headed towards the kitchen to replenish her thermos with freshly brewed coffee. She had bought Mike a pouch of _Los Planes Nut Roasted Special _as a present, after he had come home from the office grumbling one night, hoping to cheer him up. She didn't think he'd mind her borrowing some.

She had filled the long cylinder to the top, and peered into the dark velvety pool, looking into the reflection of her eyes, dreamily wondering what he was up to at that very moment. She wondered if he was thinking of her, just as she was thinking of him.

She had been jibed at enough by her mom, her brother, Unky Paul, and her college friends alike, for wasting hours away daydreaming.

A shadow moved in front of her.

She jumped, startled.

She heard the branches of a tree scraping against the window, and suddenly got the stony feeling that somebody had been watching her. She glanced up at the window, but there was nothing there but the branches of the tree. There was _nobody_ there, yet Sierra felt as though there was.

She felt a chill run down her spine, as the sun disappeared behind the clouds, the morning not feeling so bright.

She moved closer towards the window, treading warily, and peered out of it. She examined the pavement below, almost as if she expected someone, a stalker perhaps, fleeing the scene.

She then quickly made her way towards the coat rack, her thermos in hand. She glanced around the empty apartment suspiciously, still feeling prying eyes on her.

Sierra was so used to living with people, that she didn't think she'd ever be able to live alone. Before she had moved in with Mike, she had shared a dorm with four other girls, and before that, she lived with her parents and her brother. There was even a time when she had lived with her aunt and uncle and cousins, there never being a dull moment in the Rubirosa household. But ever since she had moved in with Mike, she seemed to have been spending more and more time alone as the days went by, and she didn't like it one bit. At times, she liked her solitude, at the park, at the beach, at swanky cafes, but not at home. She liked the sound of other people's footsteps. It made her feel safe. And when she was at home alone, which had been a lot lately with Mike working all the time, she felt far from safe.

She shrugged on her overcoat, and wrapped her scarf around her neck, before packing her bag with her sketchpad and thermos, then swinging it over her shoulder. She opened the front door, eager to leave, taking one more glance around the apartment.

Nobody was there, that she could see. Nonetheless, she hurried away.

**Manhattan County District Attorney's Office.**

Mike made his way briskly towards Connie's desk.

The morning felt years away to Mike, after spending it reading through the details of a new case file that had landed on his desk.

Kyle Brannigan, a softmore at NYU, had poisoned his roommate, Cameron Archer, after learning he had been having an affair with his mother. There was motive and intent on Brannigan's behalf, and Mike had just got off the phone to Lupo and Bernard who had informed him that they had located a small vile of the poison hexachlorobenzene D5P14 in his dorm room. The same poison toxicologists found in Archer's system.

It took a while for Mike to put all the pieces of the case together. He had trouble focusing, finding the grasping of the facts of the fresh case oddly difficult, his mind having been elsewhere. He could not help thinking of the conversation he had with Sierra the night before.

He wanted to learn more about her past. But didn't want to pressure her into telling him anymore, out of fear that it would resurface painful memories that she would much rather forget. The rest of the night was eerily quiet, and Mike felt that a nerve had been struck between them after she had opened up to him.

Mike leaned against the wooden panelling of Connie's office cubicle, his arms folded.

He knew that all the information he ever needed to know about Sierra, he could get straight from Connie. After all, she had been letting him in on all her young cousin's quirky escapades, from her childhood endeavours to her teenage heartbreaks, which seemed to brighten up their long day at the office. No matter how trifling, Mike enjoyed leaving the office each day having learned something new about the young woman he shared his bed with.

But, what he wanted to ask Connie this time was of a serious, and even gruesome, nature. He didn't even know whether he should approach her on such a difficult matter. All the stories Connie had shared with him about Sierra were light hearted and endearing, and he didn't think she would take to him grilling her for answers about her cousin's abuse.

He let out an exhausted sigh. "Hey Connie, you got a minute before lunch?"

She glanced up at him from the pile of subpoena applications she was filling out, her expression conscientious. "Yeah sure, Mike," she replied, swivelling her chair towards him. "Brannigan case, right?" She reached for a file that was sitting on her desk.

He folded his arms, and rested his head tiredly on the wooden panel.

"You look kind of pale," she observed, sounding concerned. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"

He straightened himself up, and took a seat on the chair next to her desk. "Well, no, not really," he answered truthfully. "Not last night, anyway."

She dropped the ballpoint pen she was holding onto her desk. She was fed up with Mike's morose outlook on the outcome of the previous case, still sulking over their losses.

"Look Mike, the Melani case is over and done with. Melani's in prison," she pointed out firmly, trying to snap sense into him, and have him focus on their current case. "Candice Harley has been fired by her firm, and she's undergoing investigation by the Legal Review Board for her misconduct. That's all that can be done for now."

Mike couldn't help but notice how snappy Connie had sounded. He supposed that she wasn't too pleased with how the Melani case ended up either, tension getting the better of her. He knew very well that everyone got that away at some stage, in their line of work.

"Yeah yeah," he agreed begrudgingly. He glanced back up at her. "But I didn't lose sleep over _that_."

"Well, what then?"

"Connie, I wanted to talk to you about something. I-It's kind of personal," he said, and she could detect reservation in his eyes. "It's Sierra."

A mischievous smile spread across her face. "Oh, I see. Kept you up, did she?" she chuckled wickedly, and he could detect slight contempt in her tone.

He looked at her with puzzlement, as well as agitation. He was becoming quite tired of Connie's bantering.

"What? No, nothing like that. We got talking last night, and I couldn't get to sleep, after what she had told me," he replied honestly, looking down at his lap. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. "I-I don't know how much you know, Connie. Being her cousin and all, I think you'd have a fair idea..."

Connie looked confused, her eyes turning pensive. "A fair idea about what?"

He sighed with exasperation. He began to lose his confidence in discussing Sierra's abuse with Connie. And thinking back on how shaken and vulnerable she was the night before made him doubt it even more. Sierra's puffy and tear filled eyes kept entering his mind, pricking at his conscience. He didn't want to betray her trust. But then again, she never mentioned anything about confidentiality.

"Sierra told me about her father last night," he said matter-of-factly. "And how she and her mom and brother had to move in with your family."

Her eyes softened slightly, and there was a glint of sadness in her expression. It was when she thought about all those years of abuse her cousins Sierra and Cedro, and Aunt Maria, endured from that swine, that she felt guilt in harbouring envy towards her young relative. And she knew what she had been feeling towards Sierra in regards to her being with Mike _was_ jealousy.

"Oh, Uncle Ricky." She felt a sickening twinge when referring to him as her uncle, a force of habit. _A pearl among princes, not_. "What do you want to know?"

She knew what he wanted to talk to her about.

Mike went in depth about the events of the night before.

/

Mike paced around the small space of her office, his expression brooding. "If I ever meet this bastard, I'll tear him a new one," he said angrily.

Connie sat there, staring down at the floor solemnly. "I'm not disputing that, Mike."

He took his seat once again, feeling nervous energy finally leave his system. He found relief confiding in Connie, and comfort in having someone else who understood his concerns for Sierra.

He continued to rant indignantly. "God, it mustn't have been easy, putting up with all that nastiness. Being treated like that by that _animal_, left permanently scarred, physically and emotionally, and then coming to a new country. A lot to be carrying on such young shoulders."

Connie took a moment to take Mike's words in. "You care a lot about Sierra, don't you?" She glanced up at him, her deep eyes full of sympathy.

"I-I do," he admitted. He didn't think he was exactly _in love_ with Sierra, but pretty close to it. He had a lot of respect for people who face a lot of tough battles in their lives, and Sierra was one of them. "No child should go through what she went through."

"You know Mike, SVU should have a file on Sierra's abuse case..."

She was interrupted mid sentence by the ringing of her blackberry, and rushed to answer it.

"ADA Rubirosa."

"Connie, it's Lieutenant Van Buren. Brannigan's been arrested, and brought to the precinct."

"Oh good. I'll be right there." She stood from her desk and glanced over at Mike. "That was Van Buren. They've got Kyle Brannigan at the precinct, so I had better head down there."

He nodded, standing from his seat. "I'd better get together a witness list." He watched Connie as she dressed in her coat, scarf, hat, and gloves.

"I'll see you later," she said, leaving her office and making her way towards the elevator.

"See you, Connie," he replied, his expression sombre.

His eyes fell to her desk. He took note of the pictures of certain family members placed there. There was one of her two year old niece, as well as a picture of her parents. He recognised them from the detailed descriptions Sierra had given him about members of her family.

He also noticed another picture of a boy and a girl with their arms around each other, and smiling at the camera.

He recognised the girl in the photo as Sierra. She looked much younger, about ten or eleven, with her hair in plaits and with a mouth full of braces. The photo would have been taken several years ago, and not long after she and her family moved to America.

He considered that the little boy in the photo was her brother, Cedro.

He lifted the picture up from the desk, and examined it closely. Despite the two children's cheerful smiles, their complexions appeared sallow, almost ashen. There was also a haunted look in their eyes, their stares cold and glassy. It made him shudder.

He placed the picture back down again, and that was when he noticed the small pot plant placed next to Connie's computer. He had never noticed it before, and thought it must have been a new addition to her office knickknacks. Out of curiosity, he read the small card that was attached to it.

_Hey Connie,_

_Too bad about the case, let's hope you and Mike win the next one. That defence lawyer was a real sneak. Looking forward to the Christmas party, I'm sure whatever you wear you'll look great in it!_

_Best wishes baby, xx_

_Cyrus._

Mike's expression transformed into a confused frown.

_This is from Lupo?_

Lupo didn't give _him_ anything like that. No gift. Not even a card. Then again, his relationship with Lupo hadn't exactly been all beer and skittles of late, and he knew he wasn't the detectives' most favourite person, least of all Lieutenant Van Buren's.

He considered that perhaps Lupo had given Connie a present, and not given him one, to make him feel left out, as an attempt to get back at him for the way he treated him during the Melani case.

But then, it wasn't very likely. He didn't think Lupo would do something so infantile.

What he found particularly odd was that he signed his first name.

Mike sighed, sounding peeved. Maybe Connie and Lupo had become friends, and that would be something he would just have to accept.

But then, friends didn't send cards like that. _Best wishes baby. _Those words repeated in his mind.

Could it be that Lupo and Connie were more than friends?

The thought made him sick to his stomach. He never did like the idea of colleagues being involved. Or at least, that's what he told himself.

**What do you think? comments most welcome:-D**


	9. Chapter 9

**The relative of an ex-defendant seeks revenge on Mike. Please review *^_^***

Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order_ and its characters. They are the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. Sierra is mine.

**Centre Street, Friday, 2:00pm**

He watched the well dressed man leave the coffee shop, cold eyes hindering behind a seething expression, as he stealthily followed the man as he made his way towards the end of the street.

Alberto Melani knew very well who this man was. Michael Cutter, the smug gun-ho prosecutor who put his brother in prison. And he was due for a dose of payback.

He continued to follow Mike towards the end of the street, hiding behind dumpsters, trees, and park benches, trailing behind, stalking him as he did so, concealing himself so that the sharp ADA did not see him, his eyes not straying all the while. One good thing, he had learned about being a member of a mob, having grown up living and learning the ways of drug-cartel life, was that you became very skilled at spying. Watching his own back, and those of his family, had come second nature to him.

Mike walked broadly, briefcase in hand, laden with a cup of coffee. His expression was arrogant and conceited, as if he had just returned from the courthouse after having sentenced Genghas Kahn, not unlike most of Manhattan prosecutors Alberto knew of. He watched on as Mike stopped to talk to a young Latina girl outside a bodega on the corner of the street. Alberto's eyes turned pensive, watching as the lawyer leaned down to exchange a somewhat passionate kiss with the Latina Lolita.

He recognised the girl from a news program he had watched in recent weeks during his brother's trial. He remembered the reporter, Len Pewl, had broadcast Michael Cutter's affair with the girl in question, in an attempt to cloud his prosecution by attacking his personal life. That very prosecution being that of his brother!

He gritted his teeth with anger. _Twenty-five years! Twenty-five years his brother was sentenced, and without bail, by that charlatan of an attorney! _Alberto had heard along the grapevine that Michael Cutter had failed to obtain his BA degree. The sentence would have been fifty-five years had his brother been convicted, and if it hadn't been for a plea bargain.

Alberto nodded knowingly, his expression transforming into a devious smirk. He scoffed silently to himself in disgust. _Trust a guy like Cutter to score a girl like that, the calculating prick! _He thought, admiring the young girl, as she reached up to ruffle Mike's hair.

He continued to watch as Mike and the girl crossed the street arm in arm, talking and flirting freely, none-the-wiser that an onlooker had been watching them the whole time. Alberto's seething eyes followed them, the bittersweet taste of revenge making him salivate. He was looking forward to what he had in store for the Manhattan EADA.

**Mike's Apartment, Friday, 7:00pm**

Sierra walked through the doorway of the bathroom, draped in a towel, her hair dripping wet after having showered, her bare feet digging into the soft carpeted floor of the hallway as she made her way towards the bedroom. She set about getting herself ready for the Christmas party, excited that the night had finally arrived.

She quickly glanced over at the clock-radio sitting on the nightstand, checking the time. Slight relief washed over her, after realising that Mike was due home soon.

With Mike working fourteen hour days at the office, spending the afternoon and most of the evening alone at the apartment was something she had to get used to. Of course, she ensured that all the windows and the front door of the apartment were locked, and Mike had always made sure he had set the security system before he left the apartment. But despite these efforts, she still had a nagging fear, with some doubt in humanity, that something terrible would happen to her, and she found herself feeling this way whenever she was alone.

And then the drapes started to move.

Of course, a draught was seeping through the cracks of the old building on such a blustery winter evening, and she figured that was what probably caused them to move. The wind was howling outside, and she could hear the walls creaking and the windows rattling. She reflected back on that eerie morning earlier in the week, when she had felt that somebody had been watching her.

_A ghost, perhaps?_ She quivered in fear at the thought.

Mike had once fed her youthful exuberant intrigue by jokingly telling her that the building itself was once an eighteenth century whorehouse, that had been converted into a block of apartments. And with Sierra hanging on every word that escaped the mouth of the smooth-talking and handsome New York prosecutor, she believed him.

Sierra was frustrated with herself. Her brother had often taunted her on such matters. And it had been her stepfather who had accused her of being frightened of her own shadow. Sometimes she was forced into agreeing with him. Even all grown up, she didn't like dark spaces, detested horror films, hated thunderstorms, and was _terrified_ of things that went bump in the night. Falling asleep was difficult, listening to the creaking of the old building, or the sound of drunken street-thugs talking and laughing amongst themselves on the pavement beneath the bedroom window, when she lay awake in the middle of the night while Mike slept soundly with his arm loosely wrapped around her. These sorts of things did frighten her, especially when she was alone.

She moved towards the walk-in-wardrobe located at the side of the room, but did not immediately swing its doors open. She formed a small crack by opening one of the doors slowly, and peeped into it first.

After being satisfied that no ghost, demon, slimy creature, or anything of that nature, was lying in wait to reach out and pull her into its dark and maggot infested lair, Sierra entered the wardrobe.

Her friends couldn't believe it when she first told them that she had been wined and dined by a forty-seven-year-old lawyer, for they knew very well that there was still a part of her that believed in such infantile tales entailing ghosts, fairies, and other creatures of the like.

She reached up at the top shelf of the wardrobe to retrieve the box containing the _new _dress Mike had bought for her.

She was then startled by a loud creak, and she wasn't quite sure where the noise had come from, but she knew instinctively that it wasn't caused by _just the wind_. She remained deathly still for moment, listening intently, and not sure exactly of what she had heard. It could have been a creak in the floorboards from the apartment next door, or the squealing of rats that lived in the walls, or some slithering creature lurking in the pipes, or a huge beastly man dressed in a black cloak, making his way down the hallway towards the bedroom, waiting for the perfect moment to enter the room, wrap his clawed fingers around her neck and...

_Shut up Sierra, _she cursed herself. She had been scaring herself again. She hated her own silly imagination when she conjured up such absurd and gruesome suspicions. She knew she was being ridiculous. The building was full of people, the doorman for that night was on duty, Mike was on his way home from work, and her childish quims were bombarding her overactive imagination with scary thoughts.

Beneath the bed, Alberto Melani watched and waited.

Sierra clutched onto the box tightly as she turned away from the wardrobe, and approached the bed. She placed the box on the bed, and continued to dry her damp hair with a towel, when she heard the sound of low heavy breathing. Wheezing. Her head tilted curiously, and she felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck raise and stiffen, the odd sound sending an unnerving chill down her spine.

He remained under the bed patiently, almost drooling at the sight of her smooth legs, as she stood near the edge of the bed. God she was beautiful. Cutter was a very lucky man, he thought to himself.

Her skin was crawling. She stiffened, listening carefully. She glanced quickly around the room.

Someone was watching her. She felt it. Something, perhaps her childish superstition, was telling her to bolt from the room.

The breathing was heavy, getting louder, the sound terrifying.

Her heart was racing.

The breathing had stopped, and for a moment, she thought her heart had too.

_Stop it! You're being silly, _she tried to convince herself, forcing herself to remain planted to the floor. She was not moving. She would not let her illogical phobias get the better of her.

He waited.

Was that rustling she heard from beneath the bed? She did not want to stick around to find out. She dropped the towel she had been using to dry her hair. She was about to slowly back away from the bed, when two strong hands from beneath the bed grabbed tightly around her ankles, and pulled her to the floor.

Oh God, she knew it! _She knew it!_ Somebody _had_ been watching her!

Her head hit the floor with a loud thump, and the room started to spin. It was then the perpetrator emerged from beneath the bed.

He was dressed all in black, and had his face covered with a black beanie.

She kicked and screamed, trying to get away from him, but she couldn't loosen his firm grip.

He was on top of her, pinning her to the floor. She tried to resist, attempting to push him away from her, but his grip only tightened.

"_Aaugghhh! Obtener de mi! (get off me)," _she screamed frantically, both with anger and terror. She was swearing both in English and Spanish. "_Maldito idiota! (fucking asshole). Ayuda! (help).__Por favor alguien que me ayude! (Would someone please help me!). __You Bastard! What are you doing? Help! HELP!_"

Nobody was there to hear her cries.

He held his hand to her throat, gagging her, cutting off her breathing, as well as her vocal reaction.

He slid his free hand between her smooth thighs. "Sshh, no need to be so hysterical," he said softly. His voice was calm and steady. He removed the towel she had wrapped around her, and looked her up and down. "My, my, aren't you a pretty little thing." He pried her legs open with force.

_Oh God! No! No! He can't be!_ She was screaming inside her head. She had never been so terrified in all of her life. She wriggled, trying to get him off her and free herself from his smothering grasp, but there was no way she could fight him. No way to escape. He was too strong.

She heard loud banging of the front door of the apartment, followed by the sound of the door swinging open.

Could it be that he had an accomplice? Several of them?

She heard loud hurried footsteps making their way down the hallway towards the bedroom.

The bedroom door swung open.

"_You get off her right now!"_ she heard a man's demanding voice bellow, feeling slight relief recognising the British hue in his accent. She glanced up to see Nigel, the building's doorman, an ex-Butler, standing there, his legs apart, pointing a revolver at the perpetrator.

Alberto removed his hands from Sierra, and put them up, his eyes staring down at the barrel.

"Didn't you hear me, good sir? He enquired sarcastically. "_I said, get off her!_" Nigel angered, his eyes raging.

Alberto stood, his hands still raised surrender.

"Now, move away from her!" Nigel ordered.

Alberto stood there, stunned. _Bewildered._

"I said move it, you bloody bastard!"

It was then that two uniformed police officers entered the room.

"You fellows just got here in the nick of time," Nigel said to them. "Go on. Take him away."

One of the officers handcuffed Alberto and read him his rights, before taking him away. The other officer lagged behind, a notepad at the ready.

Nigel rushed towards Sierra, glad to see that no harm had come of her. He knelt down, helping her rearrange her towel.

She sat up, hyperventilating. Everything was happening so fast.

Her mind turned immediately to Mike, and she wondered if he had been contacted.

"You alright, poppet?" Nigel enquired, his eyes softening.

Relief washed over her. She nodded, catching her breath. She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you," she said sincerely between breaths.

Nigel helped her to her feet, and noticed she was trembling with shock. "Your chap, Mr Cutter, is always telling me to keep an eye out for you," he replied. "I knew something was crook as soon as I saw that your kitchen window was open." He guided her out of the room and down the hallway towards the lounge room, the remaining police officer following closely behind.

Sierra and Nigel took their seats on the coach.

"I'm Officer Chandler," the police officer introduced, taking a seat opposite her on the chrome coffee table. "I'm going to need to take statements from both of you."

**What do you think? Feel free to comment:-D**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you everyone for your reviews*^_^* Each one is noted and appreciated, xxx.**

**In this chapter, the Christmas party takes off, and some familiar faces make an appearance. Hope y'all like:-D**

Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order_ and its characters; they are the property of Dick Wolf and NBC.

**Manhattan County District Attorney's Office Annual Christmas Party,**

**Gotham Hall, Manhattan, NY, 10:00pm**

The champagne and cocktails were flowing freely. Glittering gowns shone in the light of the dangling chandeliers. The hub of jovial chattering filled the room, the enchanting atmosphere seemingly falling into place with the soothing tune of a drifty jazz number playing in the background, complimenting the elegant scene.

The District Attorney's seasonal oration came to a close. Jack had given an incisive, yet laconic address, before introducing the evening's guest of honour, Adam Schiff, whose talk was more blasé than reflective, and contained at least a slight bit of humour. Nevertheless, Mike found it difficult to concentrate on both men's speeches. His pensive eyes had been skimming the crowd gathered in front of him, the whole time searching for some telltale sign, the slightest indication, that a group of people, or even just one person, amongst the guests, was not quite what they seemed.

There was not one person who appeared in the least bit out of place, that he could see, no one who made his hair stand on, make his skin crawl, or cause chills to run down his spine, unless that included Sierra, but that was a different feeling all together.

He felt uneasy, despite there being no need for concern. Alberto Melani had been arrested, and a formal report had been written. It was all that could be done until the following Monday.

Sierra had hardly said anything during the entire cab ride, still in shock from the events of that evening.

He felt so helpless. If only he had returned from work an hour earlier, then maybe he could have stopped the wheels in motion. He was thankful Nigel followed his instinct and acted when he did. He didn't want to think what would have happened to Sierra if he hadn't been there, trying to push all his past cases involving such details to the back of his mind.

He thought of the crimes Alberto Melani would be charged with. Attempted rape along with breaking and entering. Having an intimate knowledge of the legal system, Mike didn't think he'd face a harsh sentence. He would probably be tried by some bleed-heart prosecutor fresh out of law school, and be up against a year of community service, or a few months in Attica at most, if convicted. Worst case scenario: jury acquits.

Sierra stood there solemnly, staring into her drink, watching the bubbles as they rose to the surface. She was beginning to regret attending the celebration. She felt everyone's eyes on her and Mike. _Who's that young girl hanging off Cutter's arm, _they were probably all thinking. It made her feel cheap, like a trophy, and nothing more than that. And to make things worse, the youngest guest she had come across so far, aside from herself, wouldn't have been a day under thirty. To say she felt out of place would have been an understatement.

He turned towards her, placing a gentle consolatory hand at the small of her back. "Are you sure you're okay? We don't have to be here if you don't want," he said quietly. "I can just tell Jack that one of us isn't feeling well, or that something's come up. He'll understand."

"No Mike, I told you, I'm fine," She retorted, and he couldn't help but notice the hint of agitation in her voice. She finished off the glass of champagne she had been drinking, and placed her empty glass on a tray that a passing busboy had been carrying, before taking another. She wasn't fond of champagne, reflecting back on the pleasant afternoon she had spent at Pierre's Vineyard with Mike. However, she had found that it did numb her a little bit. Anything to help keep her mind off the attack.

Mike stood with his hands in his pockets, watching her closely with concern, as she gulped down her second glass. He knew she was traumatised by what had happened, and he felt such an ass for dragging her along to the Christmas party despite it all. But then again, she _had_ insisted on attending, and he'd feel even worse if she missed out.

Mike straightened, his eyes on Jack as he made his way through the crowd towards him.

"There you are Mike," he greeted, rubbing his hands together. "So many people have arrived. I hope the catering staff can handle it."

Mike forced a small smile in greeting.

"Oh, and who might this be?" Jack asked enthusiastically, turning to face Sierra. He examined her with gleaming eyes.

Mike set about introductions. "Ah, Jack, meet Sierra Delgado, Sierra, meet Jack McCoy, our District Attorney," he acquainted. His speech sounded stilted and disjointed, as though he had his mind focused on something else.

"We finally meet," Jack replied with a humoured grin, exchanging a warm handshake with the young woman. "Mike has told me so much about you."

"And he's told me so much about _you_," she replied with an equally warm smile.

Jack seemed eager in getting to know Sierra, and Mike couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in response to this. He didn't want him getting carried away.

"So Jack, who did you bring along to the party?" Mike asked inquisitively.

Mike noticed a lanky brunette dressed in a black cocktail dress sashay her way towards the small assembled company, smiling exuberantly, laden with a freshly poured glass of champagne. He recognised the brunette as Jamie Ross, an ex-district attorney, and friend, he had once worked with. He had also known her a as a close assistant of Jack's, who had presided over Claire Kincaid after her devastating and brutal death.

"An old friend," he replied. "Jamie. She hasn't really been herself since her second divorce, so I thought I'd invite her. You know, get her out of the house, and rekindle the memories of yesteryear."

Mike watched on as the woman in question continued to make her way towards them. She locked eyes with him, and there was no escape.

"Mike, how are you?" the tall brunette enquired warmly with a beaming smile, wrapping her free arm around him in a firm embrace. "Oh God, it's been such a long time since the last time I saw you."

"I-I'm doing great," Mike replied. He exchanged her friendly gesture with a lose hug and a coy smile, his actions stilted and awkward, a little overwhelmed by her enthusiastic greeting. He felt Sierra's eyes burn through him, and given her emotional state, didn't want to give her the wrong idea. He had already received _a lot _of female attention that night, and knew that more would be on its way, trying his best to seem nonchalant in response to this in front of Sierra. He wasn't quite sure how she would react towards it, having never broached the subject.

He knew he should have worn a plain black suit instead of his three-piece charcoal one. He did often receive looks from women as though they wanted to eat him. He wore it anyhow, wanting to look nice for Sierra.

"Jack tells me you've been promoted to Executive Assistant District Attorney," Jamie said, sounding impressed. She took a sip of champagne, her eyes not straying from the handsome man before her.

"Yes, that's right," Mike replied. "So Jamie, what about you? Are you still in private practice?"

"Actually, no, not anymore," she informed him. "I left _Kronsky & Steinbrenner _some years ago. I've recently taken a professorship at Columbia University, teaching law ethics."

She seemed to be far more interested in discussing _Mike's_ accomplishments rather than her own.

Jamie's eyes turned to the young Hispanic girl clasping onto Mike's arm, and immediately assumed that she was his date for the evening. She glanced back up at him. "You haven't changed a bit, Mike, still gorgeous as ever. You're still able snatch up a decent girl, I see." Her tone sounded somewhat conceited.

"He sure is," Jack chimed in.

"You're not looking too bad yourself, Jamie."

She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Oh trust me Mike, every woman has her eye on _you_ tonight."

Sierra felt a twinge in the pit of her stomach after hearing Jamie's errant words.

Mike felt his cheeks blushing in embarrassment, and sensed the cold glare Sierra directed at Jamie.

He placed a gentle arm around Sierra's shoulder. "Jamie, I'd like you to meet Sierra," he said, pushing her forward.

Jamie flashed a pearly smile at Sierra. "How do you do?" she greeted. "So, I take that your Mike's date for the evening?"

"Yes. I'm his girlfriend."

Jamie took another sip from her glass. "Really, that's so cute. How old are you?"

"I'll be twenty in January," Sierra replied, her tone apprehensive, not sure how to take Jamie's comment.

"Same age as my daughter." Sierra could sense contempt in her voice.

"Sierra is a Softmore at NYU," Mike informed her with a light smile, trying to maintain decorum between the two women.

"Katie's also attending NYU! She's a Junior," Jamie skited proudly. "She's majoring in Political Science. What's your major, Sierra?"

"Fine Arts," she said quietly.

"Fine Arts. Interesting. And, uh, what do plan to do after your degree?" Jamie pressed, staring the young Latina up and down, as she once again put her fluted glass to her lips.

"I-I'm not really sure." Sierra sipped the remainder of what was in her glass, shifting some of the edge of the conversation. "Maybe travel for a while. I've always wanted to go to Europe."

"I guess you'll be picking up the tab with that, Mike," Jamie laughed, finishing off the last of her champagne. "Well, we all know what starving artists are like." She chuckled wickedly. "Oh, aren't I awful?"

"Sierra's made the Dean's list twice this year," Mike said. "How's your daughter doing with her degree?"

Jamie stood there dumbfounded, unable to answer his question. "I'm getting another drink," she said, before staggering her way towards the bar.

Jack leaned in to share a private comment with Mike. "See what I mean?"

Mike watched, astounded, startled by Jamie Ross's less then dignified composure, his eyes following her as she continued to wobble across to the other side of the room. He nodded knowingly. "Yeah, I do," he replied with a breathy sigh, still recovering from her indignant display.

"It takes a romantic to marry twice," Jack said. "It takes _a fool_ to marry three times."

They cringed as they watched Jamie stumble in her paralytic state, then fall onto a nativity scene. Horrified gasps, along with a few entertained chuckles, escaped the mouths of the people surrounding her.

Sierra's expression softened. "Don't you think we should help her?"

"Na, she'll be fine," Mike said, brushing it off carelessly. "I'm surprised you're even putting forward such a suggestion, after the way she spoke to you."

"We all have a drop too many now and again," Jack defended, watching in amusement as two busboys helped Jamie to her feet. His lips turned up in a mischievous smirk. "It seems Jamie's receiving all the help she needs."

Jack heard footsteps approaching from behind, and turned around to see Adam making his way towards them. He welcomed him into the group. "Adam," he greeted. He turned towards Mike and Sierra. "Mike, you know Adam Schiff?"

Mike shook hands firmly with the elderly man Jack had introduced. "Yes I do. Evening Mr Schiff."

"Mr... _Cutter_, isn't it?" Adam recalled. "What are you doing with yourself these days, son? Still a prosecutor?"

"Ah, yes I am."

"Really?" Adam sounded surprised. "I thought you would have moved on by now."

"Mike's been promoted to EADA," Jack cut in.

"That's great," Adam replied. "It's comforting to know that one of our star attorneys hasn't left us for the dark side." He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, noticing Sierra standing next to him. "Mr Cutter, is this lovely young lady your daughter?" he wanted to know.

_Oh, not again! _Mike cleared his throat. "I, um... daughter isn't the word I would use," Mike tried to explain, stuck for words.

Adam exchanged a roguish glance with Jack.

"Ah, I get you," Adam replied with a wink. "_Girlfriend_."

He shook hands with Sierra. "Nice to meet you Ms...?"

"Delgado. Sierra Delgado."

"Ms Delgado. So, where are you from?"

"Saltillo Coahuila, in Mexico, originally. My family migrated to Philadelphia when I was eight. Then my mom remarried, and we moved to the Bronx." she informed him.

"Ah Saltillo, the Athens of Mexico, I've been there," he reminisced. "Great architecture, first class museums, _Saraperos Stadium_, _the Mirador_, it's all coming back to me." His eyes turned wistful in reflection.

"Why don't I get you gentlemen some drinks?" Mike suggested. "Scotch?"

"That'll do," Jack obliged, giving him a gesture as if to tip his hat off to him.

Adam called out after Mike. "I'll give you a hand with those drinks, Mr Cutter," he offered. He exchanged a somewhat besotted smile with Sierra. His expression appeared slightly enchanted for a moment, his steady gaze glued to the young woman he had briefly been acquainted with, finding it difficult to move his eyes away from her. He followed Mike towards the bar.

Jack watched as the two men left. He was glad to finally have some alone-time with Sierra.

"I've read about your campaign, Mr McCoy," she piped up, breaking the awkward silence.

"Please, call me Jack," he replied.

"Okay, Jack."

"Mike tells me you're Connie Rubirosa's cousin."

"I am."

"Strange coincidence," he mused. "I can see the resemblance." He leaned in closer towards her. "That's a compliment, by the way."

She felt the hairs on her bare arms raise, uncomfortable, not quite sure how to take Jack's somewhat fawning words. She took a step back. "Well thank you," she replied, forcing a confident smile.

"You're an art student?" he said, taking a step closer towards her. "You know, I've always admired creative people." And his eyes glimmered as he said it.

She didn't find Jack to be pushy, nor sleazy, but she knew what he was thinking.

/

Mike made the drink order to the barman. He turned around, startled to see Adam Schiff standing before him. "Sorry Mr Schiff, I didn't see you there."

Adam glowered at Mike tersely. "What kind of a man are you?" He demanded.

Mike gathered that the elderly man was not pleased, but did not understand why. He frowned in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"I was appalled to learn that poor young woman back there is your girlfriend."

Mike glanced across the room at Sierra, who was nursing a glass of champagne, and grossly engaged in conversation with Jack, back to her usual flirtatious self again. Her blatant consternation seemed to have evaporated, almost as though the events of that evening didn't even happen. But he knew different. He could see that she was hiding behind a brave face.

"Oh, I get it, it's the age thing. I'm involved with a college student, so I must be a dirty old man, mustn't I," Mike snapped back, surprised himself by how angered he sounded. "Sierra and I happen to share a mutual and caring relationship, and if you, or anybody else, have a problem with that then..." He was bantering.

"No it's not that. I don't have anything against intergenerational relationships, of course not," Adam answered defensively.

"What is it then?"

"It's Jamie Ross. I saw the way she treated your girlfriend, like she was some juvenile who isn't welcome here."

"Well, Jamie has had too much to drink, and we all know what she gets like..."

"You let her talk down to your girlfriend like she's some pariah! You just stood there, with your hands in your pockets, and did nothing to stop her interrogation. Wake up to yourself."

Mike stared down at the floor sombrely in shame.

"Now, I know Ms Ross isn't herself after she's been drinking, but that doesn't disenable you in standing up for your girl," Adam continued. "You should have stormed up to her and said _hey,_ _why don't you leave my sweetie the hell alone! _Hell, I would've."

Mike's guilt ridden eyes glanced back up at him, a lump forming in his throat. "Y-you're right, Mr Schiff," he answered. "I should have said something."

"Damn right. Ms Ross owes her an apology."

Mike nodded. "I'll have a word with her. At another time. When she's sober." He spotted Jamie at the side of the room, flirting with one of the busboys who had helped her after she tumbled into the Christmas display.

He watched Sierra happily chat away to Jack, not seeming bothered by her abrupt encounter with Jamie.

/

Mike and Adam returned from the bar.

Mike had just caught the end of Jack and Sierra's conversation. "Glad to see the two of you getting along so well," Mike said with a note of distain, observing Jack's attentive body language when conversing with Sierra. He handed Jack his drink.

"I've just been invited to a gallery opening," Jack announced, sounding thrilled.

But of course, Mike knew Jack would be delighted with _anything_ that escaped Sierra's mouth.

Mike was about to ask Adam about his travels to Zimbabwe, when Sierra touched him on the arm. She pulled him away from the other two men.

"Mike, I need some air," she said to him quietly, her eyes pleading. "I need to get out of here just for a little while."

Mike glanced over at Jack, who was now exchanging a kiss on the cheek with Danielle, the new intern the office had recently hired. He fixed his eyes back on Sierra.

"It's not Jack, is it?" Mike asked with concern. He lowered his voice. "He didn't say anything to upset you, did he?"

"Jack?" Her tone elated with surprise. She turned around to see Jack socialising with Adam Schiff and a strawberry blonde. She looked back at Mike. "No, Jack's fine. He's an old sweetheart, really."

"Not a sly old fox?"

"Well, he did pay me a compliment, but nothing for you to worry about," Sierra said. "He talked mainly about his grandson."

"Oh, good. It's just that... I'm going to say this as politely as I can. Jack has a history of _fraternising_, as you might say."

Sierra smiled in amusement. "Bit of a ladies' man is he?"

"Well, he has been known."

"I can see how anyone would think that." She paused for a moment. "I got along with both Jack _and _Adam. I came here thinking that _none_ of the people here would have time for a young person like me."

Mike slid his hands in his jacket pockets. "I-I was meant to tell you Sierra, that I am very sorry about the way Jamie treated you. She was very rude," he apologised. "She's not normally like that, and she has had a lot to drink. She's going through a nasty divorce settlement at the moment, too."

It seemed at his very mention of Jamie that her expression sunk.

Her tone was serious. "I really need some fresh air. It's getting stuffy in here."

"Of course," he replied understandingly. "We'll just get our coats and..."

"No, I meant alone."

"Oh." He glanced down at her surprised. He found it very out of character for her to want to be alone outside, especially with everything that had happened that night. "Are you sure. It's not like you."

"I'll be alright," she assured him. "It's a crowded street, and there are security guards outside the venue."

He relented. "Okay," he said warily. "But if you're not back in ten minutes, I'll come out looking for you."

He cursed himself, realising that he sounded more like an overprotective father teaching his daughter the rules of curfew, rather than a concerned boyfriend.

She gave him a small smile and leaned up to give him a chaste kiss, before turning on her heel towards the double doors at the other end of the stylish ballroom, the tail ends of her burgundy dress trailing behind.

He watched as she continued to make her way down the hall towards the cloak room.

It was then that he noticed in the corner of his eye, Connie and Lupo emerging from the crowd of people, arm in arm, as they headed towards the bar. They were chatting and laughing, as if sharing some private joke.

**What do you think? Feel free to comment:-D**


	11. Chapter 11

**The party continues. Mike's concern for Sierra grows. Hope y'all likeX-D**

Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order_ and its characters.

**Manhattan County District Attorney's Office Annual Christmas Party,**

**Gotham Hall, Manhattan, NY, 10:00pm**

Lupo and Connie approached the three men.

Connie smiled in greeting.

"Hey you two," Jack said, pleased to see them. He exchanged a kiss on the cheek with Connie, before patting Lupo on the back.

Mike watched as his colleagues continued to talk amongst themselves, waiting for a chance to cut in and drag Connie away, eager to speak to her alone.

He could see that Jack and Lupo were deep in conversation, while Connie was making small talk with Adam.

"I do like pomegranates," Adam said. "A very mild but citrusy fruit."

"Oh yes, so do I," Connie replied.

"The juice can be very staining, though," Adam digressed.

"Yes it can be."

"Say Ms Rubirosa, have you ever tried lychees?"

"Yes, I usually order them as a desert with ice-cream when I go for Chinese."

"A very substantial fruit in their own right," he continued. "My wife and I discovered them on one of our trips to the Far East. A native of China. I believe they're also cultivated through areas of Thailand and Vietnam..."

"E-Excuse me, Mr Schiff," Mike interrupted with a nervous laugh. "Can I speak with Connie for a moment?"

"By all means," Adam granted.

Mike pulled Connie to the side so that he could speak with her privately.

"Mike, what's wrong?" She could see the pain in Mike's expression, it was almost haunted.

"I need to talk to you about something that happened tonight," he said to her in a low voice, urgency in his tone.

Connie soon noticed that Sierra was not there, suddenly feeling her absence. She had pictured her young cousin gushing all over guests as soon as she and Mike made it through the door, much to the dismay of Mike, who she could imagine trying to maintain his considerably young girlfriend's respectability, as well as his own. She knew very well that no celebration was really a party until Sierra arrived, finding it strange having not yet been graced by her high-spirited presence.

She skimmed her eyes over the crowd of people, searching for Sierra, normally able to pick her out of a group of people quite easily. She imagined her shrill laughter, picturing her chatting rowdily with ADA Sonya Paxton, a natural social butterfly, and Jamie Ross, an ex-ADA, who was also known for her love of parties.

Sierra was nowhere in sight. Connie turned back to face Mike, a little surprised by this.

_Perhaps she's gone to the ladies' room_, she considered, thinking of how much champagne Sierra would have drank by now.

"Where's Sierra?" Connie asked curiously, sipping the remainder of her martini. "I thought she was coming."

His mind seemed elsewhere, his expression solemn, almost gaunt. "She just went out for some fresh air," he replied, his tone somewhat crestfallen.

"I see," she replied. "Events like these do tend to get a little intense."

There was a weariness to his reply. "Yeah, they sure can." His tone turned slightly more serious, as he looked into her eyes with sincerity. "Connie I needed to tell you something. It's to do with Sierra."

Her expression softened with concern. "What is it?"

He slid his hands into his pants pockets. "Sierra was alone at the apartment before I came home, and an intruder broke in," he explained. He glanced down at the floor for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "He tried to rape her. Our doorman stopped him in time, and called the police."

Connie's expression sunk in horror, speechless after hearing Mike's words.

"Her attacker was Alberto Melani, Melani's brother. Seems he's vengeful because of the prosecution. An eye for an eye," he continued. "He's been arrested and charged."

"What about Sierra? Is she alright?" Connie wanted to know, and Mike could detect the worry hindering behind her doe-eyed expression. "You let her go outside by herself, after what happened?" Her tone boarded on outrage.

"She wanted to," he simply replied. "I didn't want there to be a power imbalance. I already feel like some controlling parent."

He noticed her begin to fidget with worry.

He placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Sierra's quiet and shaken, but no physical harm came of her," Mike assured. He glanced down at his wristwatch, checking the time, realising that it soon would be time for him to collect Sierra from outside. "Look, I had better bring her back in."

Connie glanced over her shoulder to see Lupo deep in conversation with Jack and Adam. She turned back to Mike.

"I'll come with you," she said.

He nodded in response, as they both walked towards the front entrance.

They retrieved their coats from the coat room, and headed outside.

The air was frigid and bitter, a crisp gust of wind blowing in their direction, burning their cheeks. Mike searched along the pavement and up the street in the distance, trying to recognise Sierra out of the small crowd of people flowing around them like fish swimming between rocks. She was nowhere to be seen.

"God, where is she?" he wondered.

Connie couldn't see her either. "Maybe we should ask one of the security guards," she suggested. "They might have seen her."

They made their way towards a berley uniformed security guard, wearing a heavy down-fill hooded jacket and leather gloves, standing by the front exit, his legs spread apart with his arms folded in a brutish fashion.

"Excuse me, have you seen a young woman out here?" Mike enquired. "She came out here about ten minutes ago for some fresh air."

The guard drew a long breath. "Yeah, there was this one girl that came out just before. She looked like a spic, wearing this sort of maroon dress and gray coat."

Both Connie and Mike frowned with agitation in response to his lude racial slur.

Mike stared looked down at his feet, almost as though if he merely looked at the man he would lash out violently. He was already on the verge of losing it. He balled his hand into a fist, forcing himself to control his anger. He wanted Sierra safe and sound, more than anything. If he had a few more glasses of scotch, the bastard sure would have had it coming to him. He glanced back up at the coarse man. "Yeah, that sounds like her," Mike said, cold asperity in his voice. "Where did she go?"

"She was talking to my co-worker," he began. "I overheard her saying that 'she wanted to get out here', and he offered to take her to Starbucks or someplace. He asked me to cover for him."

Mike's expression turned livid. He glanced back at Connie. "Unbelievable. She knows how dangerous the streets are at night," he angered. "Why would she do something so irresponsible, go off with a perfect stranger?"

Connie sighed in exasperation. "That's Sierra."

The security guard interrupted their conversation. "Hey, you know what's weird? I've never seen this guy in the whole three years I've worked at this venue. You know, I never even got his name," he said. "He must be a new guy. If he is, he's already skating on thin ice, sneaking away with some girl while on the job."

/

Mike treaded tersely across the ballroom, his expression surly, Connie following closely behind, up in arms with the whereabouts of Sierra.

"I can't believe she did this," Mike said, infuriated by Sierra's recklessness. "After strict instruction. I told her, she had ten minutes, and then I'd come out looking for her."

_Well, English is her second language, _she had thought to herself.Connie was also frustrated by Sierra's thoughtless actions, but not as much as Mike. "You know what Sierra's like," she said calmly, which she scarcely felt, her tone lucid. "After a couple of drinks, she'd go home with anyone."

Connie's words certainly weren't reassuring, setting his nerves further on edge.

He grabbed a glass of champagne from a tray one of the passing busboys was carrying, nearly knocking the tray of glasses filled with sparkling liquid to the floor in his haste.

He noticed Detective Bernard in the corner of his eye, dressed in a smart white suit, a young woman hanging from his arm. It was then that he realised that the pair were heading his way.

"Evening Mr Cutter, Connie," Bernard greeted with a nod. "Where's _your_ date Mr Cutter? Stood you up?" He chuckled to himself.

"Um, Sierra just went out for some fresh air," Connie explained, as she and Mike exchanged anxious glances, their fear deepening.

Bernard turned towards the young woman next to him. "I'd like you to meet my niece, Tanya. He introduced. "2nd year, Harvard law." His expression was self-aggrandizing.

Mike was glancing around the room, hoping that, perhaps, Sierra had returned from her audacious escape. _Damnit Sierra! How could you do this!_

"Mr Cutter, I've been so looking forward to meeting you," Tanya pronounced brightly, putting forward her hand in a firm handshake.

His thoughts had been broken by the voice of the young woman standing before him, and it was then that he had realised that she had been speaking to _him_.

He was momentarily brought back to the lively chattering surrounding him, energized smiling faces, the movement of bright colours reflecting off glamorous cocktail dresses, the hub of lively activity – exuding an air of normality, no malice, good times, as if there was nothing to be feared. He knew very well that, for he and Connie, that was the furthest from the truth, now with Sierra having left the premises, fleeting off to God knows where with some nameless maverick _security guard_.

Tanya's eyes were bright and eager, boring into him intently, her mouth turning up in a warm smile.

He shook her hand with gratitude, forcing a small smile. "Nice to meet you, Tina," was his reply.

"It's _Tanya_," she quickly corrected, her bubbly expression still plastered across her face. "Mr Cutter, I'm a huge admirer of your work. I came across the _People vs. Stuber _case in the archives while undergoing research regarding the Innocence Coalition. I've also read the interview you recently did for _Alf Magazine, _and the article written about you in _The_ _Advocate_. I'd just like to say that it's a real honour and privilege to meet a prosecutor so dedicated in upholding the civil and human rights, as well as the dignity, of gays and lesbians, and in reducing the level of hate crimes inflicted upon people within our community." She looked at him earnestly. "You're my hero."

"Well, it's always flattering, and encouraging, to meet such a close observer..." he replied with a peeved sigh, trying his best to focus on the conversation he was now engaged in.

She quickly cut him off mid-sentence. "Oh, I also must commend you in making yet another breakthrough in the gay marital privilege," she continued, her sentiments heartfelt. "You are truly inspirational, and I was taken aback by the speech you gave at the last _LGBA Convention_. It is crucial that people like you are on our side in preventing the discrimination against a valued group within our society."

"I completely agree."

"My mom's vice-president of _PFLAG_, and my girlfriend co-runs _The Gay Centre_. I was wondering if you'd be willing to give a talk... "

His mind drifted as she continued to gab on.

"You have had a huge affect on our lives as gay men and women. You are well known within the community for your political approaches in upholding our causes to combat the violence and oppression experienced by our members," she continued. She lowered her voice to share a playful joke. "Mind you, I'll be honest, after seeing your pictures in _The Advocate_, a lot of the men are eager to see you in your shorts. You've been officially labelled _the prosecutor with poster-boy appeal."_ She moved a little closer towards him. She paused for a moment, making way to put forward her next proposal, her expression once again sincere. "I understand that you are very busy Mr Cutter, and please don't take this as improper, but would you mind participating in a nudie Calender for _The Centre_. For charity. It's for a good cause. It's to help raise funds for the new _Homeless Gay and Lesbian Support Service_ we're planning to have up and running by the end of 2011."

Her words were honest and direct, although gushing. He could hardly get a word in with her long-winded prose.

Mike hadn't taken in a lot of what she had said, his mind drifting, unable to fully concentrate. His mind was still focused on the events of that evening, anxiety taking its toll.

"So, Mr Cutter?"

Tanya's somewhat strident voice broke his thoughts. "Yes?"

"What would you say to a few photos?" she enquired, her eyes wide in anticipation of his answer. "Your participation would make a huge impact on our cause, and it would be greatly appreciated."

Mike continued to glance around the room, keeping a wary eye on the crowd of guests, peering over at Jack, Adam, and Lupo, who were located on other side of the room, hoping to see that Sierra had returned. But no, she hadn't. He turned back towards Tanya, sighing with dissatisfaction, staring down at the floor. "Yeah, sure, why not?" He agreed half-heartedly, having not listened to the first half of what she had said.

"You will?" She was both shocked and ecstatic.

He looked up at her.

She leaned forward to spread her arms tightly around him, thrilled to have won him over with her persuasion. "Oh thank you Mr Cutter, you don't know what this means to us!"

He was startled by her abrupt gesture of appreciation, the embrace taking him by surprise, her tight grasp briefly cutting off his breathing.

"I'll, ah, I'll write out a cheque as a contribution for your noble cause," he informed her, almost choking. He wasn't quite sure exactly what he had agreed to do, having zoned out for the most part of their discussion.

They both parted, Mike relived to finally feel air flowing through his lungs once again.

"Oh, there's no need for that, Mr Cutter," she told him. "Your time and effort is more than generous."

Bernard interposed between Tanya and Mike. "Tanya, why don't we go get drinks from the bar," he suggested. "I'm sure Mr Cutter has other people to be acquainted with." He gave a short laugh.

Tanya glanced back at Mike. "I'll contact you, so we can make a date for your photo shoot," she said.

Mike was a little confused by what she said, but didn't get a chance to clarify her words, as Bernard dragged her away.

"Now, you don't want to bore him with talking shop, now do you? Excuse us. Now I want you to meet my Lieutenant..." Bernard led Tanya away towards the bar, continuing to speak to her in a hushed tone, obviously embarrassed by the proposition she had put onto the EADA.

Connie, who had listened in on the entire conversation, stifled a laugh. She had noticed Mike hadn't payed full attention to Tanya's proposition.

They made their way back towards the group on the other side of the room.

"I think it's great you're helping Bernard's niece out, Mike," she commented. "I mean, not many people would be willing to do that."

Mike shrugged. "All I've really got to do is prepare a speech." He ceased walking for a moment to talk with Connie, bringing her back to task. He held her arms, looking steadily into her eyes.

It was then she realised how troubled Mike was by the incidences of that night, involving Sierra.

"If Sierra isn't back in half an hour, we'll go looking for her," he instructed.

/

**A/N: The Australian legal age is 18, and I just assumed it was the same in the US. (I **_**have**_** watched American shows where 18 year olds freely drank alcohol, at frat parties etc. Just not legally I suppose) *^_^***

**The next few chapters should bring the cops and lawyers closer together.**

**What do you think? Feel free to review:-D**


	12. Chapter 12

**Things get scary for Sierra. I was really apprehensive about writing this chapter, because of some of its content. And Sierra's already been through enough as it is! I wrote this in an attempt to set the story up for some more angst, as if it needs any more, lol;-) Let me know what you think*^_^* **

Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order_ and its characters.

Rating: T, for language and violent themes. **Opinions expressed by some characters presented in this chapter do not represent those of the writer.**

**36****th**** Street, Broadway Manhattan, NY, 10:00pm**

Sierra's attacker grasped her tightly from behind, his filthy gloved hands digging sharply into her ribs. She felt the cold metal barrel press harder against her right temple, squeezing her eyes shut in terror. She heard the trigger click loudly in her ear at the command of his finger.

"P-please don't," she barely whimpered, blackened tears running down her cheeks. "I didn't do anything wrong."

She could hear his wheezing breath, as he leaned closer towards her ear.

"Shut up beaner slut before I blow your brains out!" The abrasive man roared coarsely in anger. "I wish you people would fuck off back to Harlem. Or better yet, wherever you came from before that."

The smell of rancid cigarette smoke filled her nostrils, as the malodorous man shoved her into the back of a rusted and beaten-down car. The trail end of her dress ripped as he pushed her onto the seat, his heavy boot treading on the silky material. "_Ah, fuck!_ I was gonna give that dress to my daughter for prom, now look at it," he angered. "That's another thing I hate about you people. Getting around in your fancy clothes and cars, when I can't even afford my kid a dress from Savings-Mart." He slammed the door loudly behind him. "Benny, drive on," he instructed the bearded man sitting in the front seat.

The exhaust of the run down vehicle backfired loudly, before speeding off down the street.

Sierra felt herself shaking in fear, having once again been tricked by the kindness of a friendly stranger. The first time something like this had happened was her first week of college, when a guy she had met at a frat party had laced her soda.

_Why couldn't she have just listened to Mike? He had warned her how dangerous the streets were at night! _

She sobbed quietly, letting tears run down her cheek, keeping her eyes on the gun that the man held in his hand. She knew that if she said anything more there was a good chance her life would end.

The two men in the car started conversing casually with each other. Kidnapping certainly seemed to be a regular part of their job.

"Hey Benny ma man, mind if I bum another smoke?" The man next to her had said. He leaned over the console, reaching into the other man's jacket pocket from behind.

"Take the whole pack," Benny obliged. "The wife wants me to quit anyways. Besides, you've earned it." He glanced up at his rear-view mirror, peering at Sierra's reflection. "So ah, Warne, where we taking her?"

Warne put a cigarette to his mouth and lit it before taking a long drag. "Melani said to take her to, ah..." He took another puff of his cigarette. "You know that old abandoned warehouse where he keeps he's goodies?"

"The one on St Nicholas Avenue?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Keep driving." He turned to face Sierra. "It's bad enough I work for a trogon," he said to her, continuing his hate filled rant. "The bastard pays me jack shit. Can't even keep me in cigarettes."

Benny continued to drive towards West 38th street.

"No burritos where you're headed, sweetheart," Warne said coarsely, taking another drag, before breathing a puff of smoke in Sierra's face.

Both men laughed hysterically.

Warne began coughing uncontrollably, a build up of tar rising from his lungs and catching in his throat. He spat a glob of tar into his hand, before turning towards Sierra and smearing the brown sludge on her cheek. "Heh heh," he sniggered with a horse voice. "Aint so pretty now are ye? Not like your man Cutter to be bangin' a sangria-ashtray."

**Manhattan County District Attorney's Office, NY, Monday, 11:45am**

Mike sat hunched over his desk, rubbing his tired eyes.

There was a knock at his office door.

"Come in," he called out with a weary sigh, his tone raspy.

Danielle Carnegie, a young intern, entered the room. "There's an Ethan Steiner on line one, Mr Cutter. He says she's from the New York Times," she informed him, her hands placed neatly in front of her lap. "I think he wants your word on the Brannigan case."

Mike stood from his desk. _Damn reporters._ "Tell Mr Steiner we're not ready to release the prosecution's position on the Brannigan case as yet," he told the young law student sombrely. "If he wants to talk with me or Ms Rubirosa, he can do so at the courthouse steps after the Frye hearing tomorrow."

"Sure thing, Mr Cutter," Danielle answered brightly, before turning on her heel. She stopped for a moment, lingering in the doorway, before turning around to face her strident boss once again. "Oh, and Mr Cutter, I-I," she hesitated for a moment, not quite sure what to say, or whether she should say anything at all.

His eyebrows arched, curious as to his eyebrows arched he glanced down at the floor, her expression solemn. "I-I'm sorry about what happened..."

Mike stood out from behind his desk, sliding his hands in his pockets as he made his way towards the TV display. "What? You mean about getting drunk at the Christmas party, and making a lunge at me?" he enquired curtly. He surprised himself with his own arrogant tone, but reminded himself that he hadn't had a lot of sleep over the past couple of days.

She searched for words. Her cheeks turned beat-red in embarrassment the moment he mentioned it. "N-no Mr Cuter, I mean _Cutter_, I meant that thing with your girlfriend." She was rambling.

Mike glanced up at her, surprised by her words, not used to junior colleagues medalling in his personal life. But then who in the office_ hadn't_ been talking about Sierra's disappearance.

Danielle looked back up at him, noticing the frown lines in his forehead deepen. "I know it's not really the same thing, but um... my kid brother was kidnapped in a playground about five years ago," she continued, re-establishing her composure. "Never found him... So I know what you're going through... sort of... I guess what I'm trying to say is that... I'm sorry that you had to go through what I had to go through, and that I really hope they find her."

Mike cleared his throat, looking away from her. "Th-thanks for the concern," he replied deadpan. He gave her a tight smile. "Could you close the door on your way out please?"

Just as she left the room, Connie entered his office through the door next to the coat rack. "I've just had Lupo on the phone," she told him matter-of-factly.

Connie's eyes followed Danielle as she bolted down the corridor. She glanced back at Mike. "What's with her?"

"Nothing," he said brushing it off, his voice gravelly. "Dumb kids..." He was thankful Connie wasn't present when Danielle had approached on Friday night, she having left the noisy room to call on reinforcements in Sierra's search. The last thing he needed right now was _more drama._

Mike's expression turned slightly hopeful. "Any leads?" he enquired, trying to move Connie's thoughts away from the subject.

"No," she replied with a peeved sigh. "But, Lupo and Bernard suspect that Sierra has been taken hostage by mobsters sent by Melani. And it's likely that they're holding her in one of his drug hideouts."

Mike's face sunk in disappointment. "It has been estimated that Melani has over thirty uncovered hideouts distributed throughout the East Coast. It will take more than just detective work to find her."

Connie noticed the distain in his eyes. She moved a little closer towards him, and reached out for his hand. "We'll find her, Mike. No matter what it takes," she reassured him, her eyes softening, running gentle fingers along the back of his hand. "I can feel it, I know Sierra's safe."

**A/N: I think it was that episode**_** Bottomless**_** where they had that store 'Savings-Mart.' That thing with the intern, I put that in for some light heartedness. It's funny when people dig a hole for themselves *^_^***

**What do you think? Feel free to comment:-D**


	13. Chapter 13

**Here's another update of this story! I had a dream about Sierra of all people the other night and took it as a sign that I should probably get back onto this fic. It's like she's haunting my dreams because I haven't finished her story yet aaauuuggghhh! I'm glad so many of you like her actually. Let me know what you think*^_^***

/

Sierra pushed through the door of the apartment and dumped her bag on the floor.

Mike glanced up at her from his mountain of paperwork. "Hey pumpkin, where have you been? You said you'd be home at seven."

"I went back to my old dorm to get some more things," she answered, as she made her way towards the kitchen table where Mike was seated. "Then I went to the market..."

He gave her a crooked half smile, knowing full well how carried away she could get.

It was then that he noticed that in her arms she was holding her pink sweater, which appeared to be rolled in a ball. Actually, it appeared as though she had been carrying something inside the sweater. He looked at her inquisitively as she approached him.

"Oh Mike, I've got a surprise," she said, sounding ecstatic, a huge grin spread across her face. His eyes fixed on the sweater she was holding.

Mike swivelled his chair, allowing her to sit on his lap. "Oh? What kind of surprise?" He wanted to know, sounding amused. He kissed her cheek as he held her close, taking in her scent of melon and cucumbers. He tightened his grip around her, enjoying her warmth, her soft hair brushing against his cheek.

"Careful, you'll squash him!" she cried out, breaking from Mike's tight embrace, and moving the pink sweater away from his arms.

_Him? _Mike jumped, a little startled.

He really didn't know what she was talking about, but had gathered that this surprise, whatever it was, was contained in her sweater.

Sierra placed the pink sweater on the table. She pulled the sides of the sweater down slightly to unveil a small black furry looking thing. She lifted it from the sweater, and nursed it in her arms. It was then that Mike recognised the small furry thing as a black kitten.

"Look, I got a kitty!" she proclaimed cheerfully.

"Oh... I-I can see that?" Mike said, sounding a little on edge. He forced a smile.

"This guy down at the ghetto is selling them cheap. He told me he's been trying to get rid of them before the weather gets colder. So I bought one," she explained, petting the small kitten with her hand, as it nestled into her. "I've always wanted a cat growing up, but we couldn't have one because my brother's allergic."

Mike was already beginning to worry about the kind of mess this kitten would make in his apartment, along with the other kind of hassle it would cause. Stains on the rug, scratched furniture, torn drapes, not to mention the smell, and he had heard that animal fur was particularly difficult to remove during malting season. And as much as he hated to admit it, Sierra wasn't the most responsible person. Knowing her, she'd forget to top up the food and water dishes and clean out the litter tray.

Sierra had college as well as an active social life, and Mike worked long hours. Who would look after the kitten when nobody was around? He knew that Roberta, the cleaning lady, wouldn't have any part in it. She certainly didn't owe them any favours. After having cleaned the apartment one morning, Mike had heard Roberta utter something into her cell phone as she was leaving, and he asked Sierra to translate. She told him, with some distress, that she had said that 'Mr Cutter and that young tramp that's just moved in are the messiest people she has ever worked for.' He didn't think she would take to cleaning up after a young kitten. It was bad enough cleaning up after Sierra.

He cleared his throat. "You know, Sierra, pets require a lot of responsibility," he said seriously.

He would have much preferred it if she had talked with him first, instead of just buying a spare-of-the-moment kitten from a seedy little market-stall.

"I know that," she answered. She stood from Mike's lap and placed the kitten on the table. She pulled out a toy mouse tied to the end of a piece of string from her pocket, and waved it in front of its face. The kitten pounced on it vivaciously with his little paws, bouncing around from one end of the table to the other.

_Don't you realise people eat there?_

"Cats are very independent. They don't need much attention," she assured him.

He glanced back up at her. "Well what does he eat? Have you got food for him?" he wanted to know.

"I bought kitten food on my way home, it's in my bag"

"And where's all his nasty business going to go?"

She shrugged. "I'll get kitty litter and other stuff tomorrow. We'll use newspaper for now."

He looked down at the playful kitten. He had avoided owning a pet, having taken pride in his surroundings over the years, not fond of the mess animals were famous for. Pets often proved a handful, especially puppies and kittens.

"Sierra, I-I don't want any trouble from this kitten."

She stoked the kitten's soft coat, his big blue eyes gazing back up at her. "Aww, he's not going to cause any trouble. He's so cute."

/

Mike woke, startled to find himself on the couch in his office. He rubbed his tired eyes, realising he had fallen asleep reading through a statute related to the Brannigan case, the book opened and resting on his chest.

He sat up, his head groggy from sleep.

He couldn't stop thinking about Sierra, fearing the worst. There was a constant gnawing doubt in his mind that something terrible had happened to her, and that once the detectives had found her, it would be too late. He considered that if the mobsters had abducted her for ransom, wanting something in return, then they would have kept her safe, surely. But then if it was just payback for putting Melani in prison, then there was a high possibility that her safety_ would_ be in danger.

His life felt dim without the sound of her spritely laugh and the scent of her perfume. He missed how on Saturday mornings she would make gluggy oatmeal with chocolate chips, and burnt omelettes with traces of eggshell that had dropped into the mixture. A cook, she certainly wasn't, but a sweetheart she was, and finding a sweetheart like her was a rarity. The bubbly liveliness she had brought into his life and into his heart had died the night she disappeared, and he had been a wreck ever since.

He glanced down at his watch. 9:20pm, it read. He felt that he had better head home to his apartment, which hadn't felt like much of a home without Sierra in it. At least he had her kitten, Pico, to keep him company in her absence. He was surprised by how such a tiny ball of fur could bring so much comfort to a lonely heart. He finally understood the appeal she had seen in him.

That reminded him, Pico was due for feeding. He stood from his seat and made his way towards his desk to fill his briefcase with the days remaining paperwork and head home.

He felt his blackberry vibrating in his pants pocket.

"Mike Cutter," he said into the receiver.

"Hi Mike, i-it's Carly."

Carly? He hadn't heard from her in over a year.

"Oh, um, hi Carly," he answered, a little stuck for words, his voice stilted. "H-how have you been? Haven't heard from you in a while."

"I'm doing alright," she said simply. "I, ah, I got a job recently as a junior associate at a law firm in Brooklyn," she told him.

He set about packing his briefcase. "Why have you suddenly contacted me, after all this time," he asked, getting straight to the point, suspicious of her motive in calling him.

"Mike, I've seen your girlfriend's kidnapping on the news," she informed him. "I just called to let you know that I think I may be able to help you and your detectives."

He was silent for a moment. "Go on." He ceased dropping case-files into his briefcase.

"The Melanis have links to the firm I work for. I can't say much else. I can't be sure who's listening."

Mike was surprised by this. Was Carly trying to help him out in some way? Even after he had destroyed her livelihood?

"I need to meet with you," she continued. "Tonight."

He sighed, looking down at his watch once again, and continued to pack up. "Meet me at my apartment at ten," he instructed her.

**A/N: Can you guess the kitty in my profile? Just some random picture of a cat I found online hehe. He's even got a pink sweater!**

**What do you think? Feel free to comment:-D**


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